


Miracle Aligner

by WeirdChick333



Category: Last Shadow Puppets, Milex - Fandom
Genre: Idiots in Love, Love, Love and Lust, M/M, Marriage, Meddling mothers, Mutual Pining, milex - Freeform, secretly gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 181,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdChick333/pseuds/WeirdChick333
Summary: Miles is the owner of a very successful dating agency called 'Miracle Aligner' that made its success by releasing an app. He's got a proper swagger, a sleek way of getting things done and he's married to a beautiful woman. Oh, and he's gay. Married for PR. Life is strange sometimes, right? Here's another thing about Miles. His mom is best friends with Penny Turner and they love to meddle with their kids' lives.Because Penny wants nothing more than grandchildren, she enlists Pauline, who sets her son up to meet with Alex in order to find him a wife.Alex, who runs a successful business of consulting and occasionally selling companies, needs his life to run flawlessly in order to pursue even the most conservative clients. Nobody knows that he's gay. Not even his parents. And not only is he gay. He's also crushing hard on this very straight, very married man that his mother made him meet.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner, Miles Kane/Alex Turner/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 228
Kudos: 366





	1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my new story. I hope you enjoy it! This Milex story is AU. A little something different, this time. Most of the things you'll find and figure out along the way. My story is taking place in an AU 2016-ish world. Alex's birthday takes place in summer - I changed that. And everything else, hopefully, will become clear as the chapters come around.** ****

**💛**

**Alex**

“ _Alex Turner turns 30. And business can prepare for his best decade yet. At just this young of an age, Mr. Turner already has an impressive life to show for. Regarded a math genius since his earliest days in school, he studied business and finished with honors at the prestigious London School of Economics, needing two semesters less than the average smart person studying there. He went into the financial sector, amassed a seemingly endless list of successes and managed to remain invisible and unknown to everyone except those who are always looking for the next Wunderkind to bet big on. His birthday will take place this weekend and when the week resets on Monday, we can all tune in for his next endeavor – his attempt to save an age-old institution, South London Steel. We certainly wish him all the best.”_

Penny Turner placed the _London Times_ away and pressed both her hands to her heart. “Oh, my dear Alex. What a wonderful thing. This newspaper has high hopes for you! They call you a genius!” She shook her head in wonder. “I can’t believe that an entire newspaper congratulates you for your birthday!” 

“It’s not an entire newspaper!” Alex sat at his marble covered kitchen table, twirling the expensive bone china cup that always left his coffee tasting stale, and wondered just how much of his hard-earned money this ridiculously overpriced interior designer had wasted on both. His mood soured at the prospect. “It’s one bloody editor and he only wrote it ‘cause he hopes it’ll make me hand over inside information for his next big scoop!” 

“It doesn’t say any of that in the article,” stated his mother as she took the paper, folded it meticulously, and carefully placed it into her purse. “The other women in my knitting circle will be so jealous! My son’s a genius.” She grinned at him. “The newspaper says that!” 

“Yes, mother.” He gave the cup another nudge as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. This time it tipped over, spilling coffee everywhere. “Shit!” 

“Alex! This isn’t a toy! It’s a fancy cup. You’re not supposed to use it for coffee, anyway!” 

“It’s a coffee cup, isn’t it?” Dabbing the table with paper towels, he gave her an incredulous look. “What else am I supposed to do with it?” 

“Present it?” 

The look turned into a grimace. “A coffee cup? To whom?” 

Penny sighed. “People, son. Friends. A woman, maybe. You have this grand apartment and you never invite anybody over. Do you have any idea what wonderful dinner parties you could have here? What’s the point of having this beautiful place if you don’t show it off? Could have stayed at your old place.” 

“I’d have love to, but the owner wanted to tear the complex down.” His old place was small and, as much as he hated the word, _normal_. This place? He glanced around. It reeked of money. His money. He shouldn’t have let a real estate agent do his own work. He should have looked for a new home, himself. But he’d been so damn busy and he just wanted the move to be done with. 

And since he had all that money, ‘cause, apparently, business and investing were sectors that paid shockingly much, he figured he might as well spend it on an apartment. 

Well. 

That was a mistake he wouldn’t make twice. 

Penny had gotten up and rummaged through his cupboards. When she found what she’d been looking for, she turned around and handed him one of his old mugs. It had a scratch on the bottom. “Use this one. Not the pretty ones.” 

Pretty was not a word he’d use to describe a bunch of tacky, gold-rimmed cups. But who was he to argue with his mother? “If you like the damn cups so much, take ‘em with you. I don’t mind!” He’d judged them ugly, anyway! 

“Oh, I couldn’t.” 

“Do it already.” 

She hesitated, began nibbling on the corner of her lip. “No. It wouldn’t just be the cups. You have the matching dinner plates and the teacups and the serving plates and—” 

“Take everything, then!” The entire collection of money badly spent.

“What would you use to eat from?” 

“Pizzas come in a box,” he said, being his most serious. Her outraged expression brought a bit of joy to his otherwise boring morning. “Mother, please. I’m begging you, now. Take the godawful stuff with you and be done with it!” 

“If you insist!” A smile as big as all of the Commonwealth spread on her face. “Let me call your father. I walked here. He needs to bring the car! Oh, but before I do. I almost forgot.” She reached for her purse again. Plucked something out. “Here. For you. Happy Birthday, my sweet little boy!” 

Alex eyed it warily, that off-white envelope that came with no marker, no name or anything. “I thought the sweater was my gift?” He let his thumb and index finger slide over the paper and he couldn’t shake the thought that something dangerous hid in there.

“Yes, yes. That was from your father and me. This one is from me. A little extra. Because I’m worried about you.” 

What was in there, wondered Alex, irritated. A gift certificate for a physical? He opened it and promptly rolled his eyes from London all the way to Australia. “Excuse my language, mother, but you have got to be fucking kidding me!” 

“Language not excused,” admonished Penny sternly. 

The small engraved card in Alex’s hand said “Miracle Aligner Dating Agency” on one side, punched into it with golden letters. The other side said, ‘ _Tuesday, 7:30 p.m., Lion’s Club London_.’ The date was hand-written. As was the signature. ‘ _Miles Kane_ ’ 

“Kane…” Alex scrunched his nose. “How do I know that name?” 

“He’s Pauline’s son. I told you about him!” 

Right. Her best friend’s son. The guy had founded a dating agency immediately after graduating high school. It had taken a bit but he’d struck gold when smartphones and apps began to surge and his agency’s app was the hit amongst today’s smartphone and app obsessed citizens. “Why do I have a meeting with this guy? Don’t tell me he wants to invest or some shit like that!” 

“Alex, my dear little genius, you’re really not the smartest cookie in the jar, are you?” She pinched his cheek. 

He swatted her hand away. 

Penny sighed. “This is a gift. A personal meeting with the head of Britain’s most highly regarded dating agency. And you’re meeting him so you can find the love of your life. He’ll help you find a nice, caring and kind woman to make grandchildren with.” 

A mix of a snort and a laugh sputtered from him. He really ought to tell her, right? That he was gay? That his last two girlfriends were nothing but hired personnel? 

He lived in a world that not just ran on money and connections but also on images and perceptions. He planned on saving a company that was controlled by an old-fashioned family whose matriarch had a reputation for his racist slips and whose wife was everything modern women fought against. But he needed their cooperation to get things to work out. If they found out he was into men, he might as well give up now. 

So, he’d decided a while ago to keep his personal life a secret. Or, rather, not advertise it. He wasn’t famous. Hardly anybody could put his name to his face. He went on dates with men. He had the occasional affair. Only, whenever there was an event or a party, he’d need a woman. It was a bad world he lived in. He wasn't denying that. 

Keeping it from his parents wasn’t necessary, he knew. They’d understand. At least, they’d accept that he was into men. His mother, however, would not be able to keep it to herself. She’d tell everyone and then some that he was gay, single, and searching for a husband. And after she’d move heaven and earth to find him one, she’d single-handedly move them to the top of every adoption waitlist available. That, she’d tell everyone as well. 

He loved her massively. But she couldn’t be trusted with the words ‘do not tell anyone’. It was just easier this way. 

“I liked the last one,” Penny told him, reminiscing about his past. “She was pretty.” 

Pretty, smart, funny. Turned out the last two attributes were twice as expensive as the first one when booking an escort. “If I wanted to find a partner—” 

“You could,” finished his mother, dismissively. “Dear, I don’t doubt that women take note of you. But you tend to choose the wrong ones. Pauline told me that Miles is very good in his line of work. His rate of successful matches is higher than any other agency’s! Give it a chance. What’s the worst thing that can happen, huh? You spend an evening in the company of another person.” 

“I have friends,” he retorted petulantly, beginning to take offense at her flippant remarks.

She countered with a pointed look. “Weird ones.” 

“Colleagues!” 

“They always talk about cars and money.” 

Yes. That, sadly, was true. 

“Do me a favor, dear, and help me wrap up all that fine china, so I can transport it safely.” She pushed the roll of paper towels into his hand. “Two for each cup. And be thorough!” 

He owned two very fancy cars, he had a record collection that filled its own room, he regularly impressed colleagues and business acquaintances with his deep knowledge of numbers and he knew for a fact that he fucked far better than well. But one morning with his mother and he felt like a toddler who’d yet to learn basic human skills. “I know how to wrap a cup into a paper towel,” he bit out. 

“Do it, then.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he did it right. “And dear? Use that attitude again and I’ll take that lasagna I made you right back home with me. Understood?” 

“Clearly.” He, hungry toddler that he was, lowered his head. “Sorry, mom.” 

“Apology accepted, love. Continue wrapping.” 

\- 

“Look at her!” 

Alex sat on the wide settee in the VIP section of one of London’s fancier clubs, Vodka in hand, looking at the woman this guy named Jake was pointing at. She was a beauty. He couldn’t deny that. But she didn’t interest him. “Go for her!” 

“I will,” said Jake winningly. “You alright? ‘Tis your birthday party! You look bored.” 

He was bored. To the very core of his bones. Bored by his life. Bored by this club. Bored by the music. Bored by– 

Alex sat up straight, clutched the glass in his hand tightly. 

By accident, his eyes had landed on the bar. He’d watched aimlessly until a cluster cleared, only to reveal the tall figure of a man. Short, dark hair. Wearing a tailored suit. Anthracite. Or black maybe. Or something akin to that. He was slim but exceptionally well built, from the first impression of it. He’d long legs. Nice arms. Firm shoulders to grab when—

“Alex?” 

He licked his lips in appetite as he struggled to make out the face.

“Alex! Hey!” Jake was snapping his fingers in front of him. 

He blinked. “Huh?” 

“Drink? You want one?” 

He spotted the waiter in front of him. “’nother Vodka.” He quickly glanced around, trying to spot him again. That guy. Sex on legs. But the cluster had swallowed him whole. Should he walk over? Search for him? Introduce himself? He didn’t even know if the stranger was into men. What if he walked over and the guy ended up being straight? As most guys pretended to be! 

Jake nudged his arm. “Seriously, man. What’s with you? We’re out, celebrating you and you’re sitting here, staring off, lost in thought. What the hell?” 

Alex was too busy debating with himself to pay attention to his manners. “I didn’t ask for a party.” 

“Well, you’re welcome then. Thanks for not appreciating your friends!” 

Were they his friends? His mind got sidetracked by that question. He hung out with them. Partied with them. But he didn’t like them all that much. He hardly cared for them. If anything, he was annoyed by them. Especially right now.

Damnit, the cluster just wouldn’t budge. Alex leaned back and gave up his quest for the stranger. “Jake…you’re right. Sorry.” It was a lame apology, half-assed at best, but he couldn’t possibly bring himself to make a greater effort. His drink arrived and he took a healthy swig, remembering something else. “I’m supposed to meet somebody at this club. _The Lion’s Club_ or something like that. Never heard of it. You? Any idea where it is?”

“You’re meeting somebody _there_? Take me with you.” 

Not in this life, thought Alex. “Why? What’s it about that club?”

“It’s a strip club. Good one, too. Seriously, who are you meeting in a strip club?”

“Long story.” And a good question! What serious dating agent, or whatever job title this guy was using, invited a possible client out to meet at a bloody strip club? 

**Miles**

Miles Kane shrugged out of his hand-stitched jacket, tossed it onto his mother’s living room couch and loosened the tie around his neck. “Fucking contraption!” He didn’t mind wearing one. At times, he even enjoyed dressing up and paying extra to look sharp, but most days, he loved shirts and jeans. Especially when it was fucking one-hundred degrees Celsius outside and his driver forgot to have the damned a/c repaired! He was drenched and sticky and headed straight for the shower. 

By the time he was done, wearing track pants and his favorite shirt, he found his mother sitting next to his now neatly folded jacket, typing something into his phone. He stopped short and immediately worried. “What are you doing with that?” 

“Setting up a meeting for you.” 

“Say what now?” 

“A meeting.” Pauline looked up, a sly smile on her face. “Remember my friend Penny?” 

He nodded warily, wondering where this story was headed and whether or not he should run and hide now or wait for the inevitable bomb to drop. 

“Her son Alex turned thirty on Saturday. Yesterday. She’s a bit worried about him. Apparently, he’s a bit of a loner. He’s rich and smart and quite a good catch, but he likes being by himself. Anyway, I told her you’d meet with him and find him a nice, young lady to marry and have kids with.” 

A blank look settled on his face as he let the words sink in. Then he was no longer nodding but, instead, shaking his head vigorously. “I’m booked out, mother. I don’t have meetings like that. I have people for that. And my company is specialized in supplying matches online. Via the app.” He groaned at her blank expression. “The funny symbol on your phone? The one you say looks like a heart-shaped balloon?” 

“You used to meet with clients,” she pointed out, still holding onto his phone. “You told me how people come to your agency and find matches.” 

“Years ago. Not anymore.” 

“Make an exception for your mother, sweetheart.” Pauline shifted to direct all her attention at him now. Her smile grew bigger and a glint appeared in her eyes. “Besides, he’s already expecting you. Gave Penny one of those fancy cards you carry around. Wrote down the date and signed with your name.” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, calm down, Miles. One meeting. That’s really not too much to ask, is it? Get to know him. Ask him what he likes in a woman and give him a few numbers of women to call.” 

“That’s not at all how this works,” he drawled, tempted to deliver a rousing speech about the pros of his app, but he faltered quickly. He’d done it before. He’d spoken extensively. And each and every time he used the words ‘app’, ‘match’ and ‘swipe’ his mother began to yawn. It was a pointless endeavor. Just as it was to refuse her wishes. Sighing deeply, he caved. “When’s the meeting?” 

“Splendid,” expressed Pauline. “Tuesday night, half-past seven at the Lion’s Club.” 

He blinked. She didn’t have. Did she? “Where?” 

“That club? The one you told me about? The fancy one, son. You said that the guy from work invited you all there not too long ago? I’m not really into clubs and bars. It only one could think of!” 

Clearing his throat, Miles chuckled with glee. “The strip club we went to for his bachelor party? _That_ Lion’s Club?” 

She was blushing now, mortified. “Oh no.” 

“Oh yes,” he laughed. 

“This isn’t funny! How catastrophic! Penny will think I’m corrupting her son!” 

“Didn’t you sign with my name?” 

“Worse, she’ll think you’re corrupting her son!” 

He was laughing harder. “For what it’s worth, he might spot a woman he likes!” 

“Miles!” 

He took it with humor, much to the chagrin of his mother. “Give me his number, then. I’ll tell him to meet at a different place.” 

“I don’t have his number!” 

“You’re screwed, then.” 

“Would you stop?” 

“Mother, relax.” 

She jerked when his phone began to ring. Put a hand to her heart. “Take it already!” Shoving it at him, she shook her head and left the room, groveling. 

“Serves you right for meddling with my plans like that!” With a smirk, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Lena. What's up?” 

“Nothing much. Came back from Aspen with the others,” his wife said and gave him a quick rundown of her last days. “What’s new with you?” 

“Same old,” he said. “Meeting a client in a strip club Tuesday.” He filled her in on his mother’s latest acts. Taking a seat at the table, he stretched his legs and smiled contently. “Won’t be back before Tuesday, though. Taking a short break.” As much as he loved the buzz of London, the breezy air and wide lawns of his parents’ property on the far outskirts of the city, in this summer’s heat, held a much greater appeal. He’d gotten it for them for their wedding anniversary a few years ago. But he’d been selfish, honestly. He loved it here. Out of convenience, he lived in the center of London. But he couldn’t deny his heart ached for space and a little bit of a green lawn. 

“I’m off to New York on Monday,” Lena informed him and for the next couple of minutes, they exchanged their schedules and travel plans. She was working for his company and was responsible for advertising. That’s how they had met, years ago. They had clicked. She had immediately understood how to help him turn _Miracle Aligner_ into the powerhouse dating agency it was today. And because they worked so well professionally, he’d suggested they marry. For PR. As far as the world believed, he and Lena were matched by the app, fell madly in love and married within months. A true success and love story. 

She was against monogamy, hated relationships and considered the idea of love at first match laughable, but working for a dating agency, that was not a good image to have and so she’d agreed to his proposal. He’d been very honest from the offset, too. He was gay. But, ten years ago, when things had begun to turn profitable, the idea of love was still based on one woman and one man. Gays had their own apps, his old PR guy had informed him. And, so, he’d moved firmly into the closet, decorated it nicely and appreciated the fact that he still succeeded in living in relative anonymity, which in return allowed him to have the occasional affair and not spark a scandal. 

“Tell your mom hi from me and thank her for the book on family planning. Looks nice in the far back of the bookshelf, where it’s doing a fine job of collecting dust!” 

He heard the edge in her tone and winced. “Sorry about that. I’ll talk to her.” 

She offered a little chuckle. “No need. It’s fine. Just…she’s got all this hope for grandchildren and…I kinda feel bad that you and I won’t ever give her any!” 

Panic overcame him. “You…um…want kids?” 

“What? No! God no.” 

“Oh, thank you!” He let out a deep breath of relief. “Don’t worry, alright! She’ll be fine. She knows that you and I don’t plan on having children. She’s just her usual intrusive self.” 

“All’s good. Gotta go, Miles. See you…what, like, next weekend?” 

“Sounds about right. Take care, Lena!” 

“Bye!” 

\- 

He was lying on top of the bed, legs stretched out wide, windows open, reveling in the gentle wind of the night, which was slightly cooler than the humid and brutal heat that had tortured him all day. Wearing big, cushy headphones, listening to his newest purchase – a rare recording of early _The Beatles_ songs – he only by accident spotted the blinking light of his phone, indicating a new message. 

Miles read it. 

‘ _A strip club? Just checking to make sure.’_

‘ _Who is this?’_ He texted back. 

‘ _Alex,’_ the person replied. Another text followed suit. ‘ _Alex Turner. My mom knows your mom...’_

‘ _Sorry, yes!’_ Miles paused typing. Should he tell him that his mother that set it all up, against his will? Would the guy take offense or feel insulted? From what he knew about him, which, admittedly, was very little, he could only tell that he was rich, successful and not into big circles of friends. 

Before he could finish his text, however, Alex already sent another one. ‘ _So, strip club or not?’_

He was impatient, apparently. Miles had just learned something new about him. And since he didn’t like impatient people, he decided not to care too much about whether or not he was in a position to offend him. ‘ _My mom set it up. She chose the strip club. Long story. We don’t have to meet.’_

Miles wondered if Alex would answer. For a while, he only saw those pale little dots blinking, indicating he was writing. But nothing arrived. Until, 

‘ _I’m curious, why would your mom set us up to meet at a strip club?’_

He snorted at that. ‘ _She’s the meddling kind.’_

‘ _That still doesn’t explain the strip club.’_

Alex seemed hung up on that part. Not that Miles could blame him. He began to type but, halfway through the text, he realized that this was becoming a longer story and he hated texting, truth be told. Taking his headphones off, he pressed pause on the record player next to his bed and hit ‘dial’. A moment later, Alex picked up. “Hi,” said Miles. 

A low, vibrating chuckle came from the other side. “Hello,” replied Alex. 

_Fuck_ , thought Miles. That voice. He really had a weakness for a nice, raspy voice. The breathy, thick kind that sounded so damn hot when it whispered filthy things into his ear during sex. Squeezing his eyes, he tried his best to avoid imagining a face to match. Before he’d say even more, sparking fantasies, Miles began to explain things. “From what I’ve been told, you need help with the ladies. My mom thought she’d do your mom a favor. She also forgot that my agency is built around an app and not personal meetings. Never mind that part.” 

“Oh, I mind that part very much,” interjected Alex. “First, though. I don’t need help with the ladies,” he clarified, sounding slightly indignant. “I’m doing just fine. But I got a feeling you know a little something about pushy mothers. So, I’ll let that one slide. Second, if I were to need help, I’d be partnered with you, who, you’re saying, put an app into this world and, by conclusion, did not spend the last decade gaining expertise in how to successfully advise singles in need. Am I wrong?” 

He was smart, too, and a little cocky. _Shit._ Miles really liked that kind! “The expertise came before the app arrived,” he countered, a grin on his lips. “And the app is only this successful because of the parameters we, mostly I, supply it with.” 

“It’s an app,” Alex stated flatly. “You swipe images.” 

“You know it, then?” wondered Miles, interested. 

“I’ve seen people use it.” 

“But you haven’t tried it?” 

“I prefer human interaction when it involves my dating life. Pictures and profiles lie.” 

“Not on my app,” Miles felt inclined to point out. 

“On every app,” Alex volleyed back. “Doesn’t even matter. Bottom line, you run an app and my mother thought it’d be a good idea you give me dating advice. Not sure what to make of that. Let’s return to the strip club. Why there?” 

“Because she’s never been to a club and couldn’t point to one even if she were surrounded by ‘em. She remembered me mentioning that name and promptly used it.” 

“You mentioned it?” Alex’s voice took on a more intrigued shade. “Alright. Do you often frequent strip clubs? You’re married, I’ve been told.” 

“What else have you been told about me,” Miles wanted to know. He knew little about him. It seemed unfair that his knowledge ran deeper. 

“Married, no children. Rich and successful. No children. You own a dating agency, started it right after high school. No children. Notice a pattern?” 

“I got no children?” Miles laughed. “Well, you don’t have any, either, I was told. And in the same sentence, I was informed that I was to find you a woman to have children with. Are you planning on having children in the near future? ‘Cause your mother is counting on that, Alex.” 

Laughter from him as well. “She’s less concerned about the woman, actually. Kids first. I’m an only child, so, all her hopes rest on me.” 

“I know how that feels!” 

“At least you’re married.” 

“No kids planned, near or far.” 

“Ah.” 

“Do you mind meeting me at a strip club?” Miles brought the topic back to where things began. “Or would you prefer a different establishment? A gentlemen’s club, like _Brooke’s_ , maybe? Or _White’s_? A golf club? Dinner at a restaurant? Vegan or Steakhouse? A dive bar—” 

“Slow down,” interrupted Alex. “Feels like you’re interviewing me for your app or something. Strip club’s fine.” A chuckle. “What does that say about me, huh?” 

“Two things, possibly.” 

“Oh yes?” 

“Option a, you’re into cheap women and if that’s the case, you’ll be best served not to meet with me, ‘cause that’s not the kind of dating service we supply.” 

“What’s option b?” 

“You really don’t give a fuck about meeting somebody new.” 

“You got me there,” admitted Alex with a laugh. 

“In that case, as your dating adviser, tell me why.” 

“Dating adviser? You sound like a psychologist! But sure, I’ll play. Let me get comfortable on my couch real quick and get into my role.” 

Miles head rustling sounds and chuckled, imagining this faceless man laying down on his fancy leather couch, wearing a mocking smile and little else. 

_Damnit!_

_Bad Miles!_

He quickly shook his head. Cleared his throat. “Ready?” 

“Yes, doctor. Tell me about my fragile mind!” 

“Let me ask you about it, first. You’re an only child.” He settled comfortably into his pillows, feeling oddly entertained by it all. “Are you burdened by memories of loneliness and pressure?” 

“Very much so, doctor! How good that you asked! I’ve felt so very lonely all my life. And because of that, I hop from one affair to another, trying to quench my endless thirst for love and adoration! I’m desperately trying to find a person to…well… _mate_ with. But I’m just so extremely unsuccessful with the ladies! You can imagine how stressed and horrible my life is! Good doctor, please help!” 

Miles liked him. That was a really dangerous development! Alex was funny and quirky and a bit silly, just like he tended to be at times. “Oh dear,” he expressed helplessly, trying to suppress his laughter. “That sounds rather daunting! What a hopeless state you’re in! I prescribe a strip club meeting at your earliest convenience.” 

“Is it that grave, doctor?” 

“Oh, it’s much worse,” mocked Miles, his voice somber. 

“Here’s an honest answer for your profile of me,” supplied Alex. “I like being an only child. Do you?” 

“Has its ups and downs,” confessed Miles. “I’d like to know what’s like to have a sibling. But then again, I’m shamelessly bad at sharing things!” 

It was Alex’s turn to laugh. 

And what a laugh he had. Breathy and vibrant and smooth. Miles bit his lip from grunting. Why did all the sexy voices belong to straight men, huh? Life sucked. And not in the good way! 

“Are you really not interested in meeting anybody to grow old with?” asked Miles eventually. 

“I don’t mind finding somebody to spend my life with. I just don’t think meeting you will help with that! No offense to you or your app. I genuinely believe that it takes a spark, something like that. You know? Eyes meet, a lingering look or two, some instant attraction…” 

“Our app offers all that.” 

“Like I said. You swipe images.” 

“Point taken.” Not everybody was into instant matches. Miles wasn’t even sure he, himself, was. “So…Tuesday?” 

“I’ll be there,” assured Alex. “How will I recognize you?” 

“I’m fairly certain you and I will be the only ones there looking slightly out of place. But if it helps, I could put on a royal blue tie.” 

“A tie in a strip club? I’ll look for that, then. ‘til Tuesday, Miles.” 

“Bye, Alex.” 

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 2: **

#

Alex hurried to take a sip from his wine, too, to mask the heavy gulp that he needed to make. “Tell me, Mr. Dating Agent Extraordinaire, am I a catch for your portfolio of clients?” He tried changing the topic back to something lighter. “Would I sell well?” 

“I doubt anyone would swipe you away,” Miles told him in seriousness. 

_ Would you? _ Alex liked to ask. 

#

“Yes. Thank you for being honest with me.” 

“Still willing to let me help you with the ladies?” 

The what? Oh. He’d completely forgotten! They had set out to meet for a reason! And that reason was not for Alex to develop a massive crush on a married man! “Sure. Knock yourself out. Advise me. But let’s move to the bar, first. I need something stronger than wine for that!” 

#


	2. First Impressions

By the time Tuesday arrived, Alex was actually anxious to meet Miles. When he’d spoken to him on the phone, he’d instantly fallen for his gravelly voice and his easy laugh. There was something remarkably easy about talking to him. And he’d felt it immediately, despite their limited conversation. After they had hung up, he’d even gone as far as trying to google him. But he’d only found a few grainy images of him. Almost as though the man refused the attention that some of the media so readily offered him. There had been a few more images of his wife. She was beautiful, known and respected for her Public Relations savviness and there was an old article from a few years ago about their engagement. One that talked in detail how they’d fallen for each other after meeting via the app. But no high-resolution pictures. 

Damnit! 

Alex put his phone on silent and glanced around the club. There were plenty of people around. A few chubby men who sat in the corner, enjoying their beers while occasionally glimpsing at the scarcely clad women dancing on stage. There was what appeared to be a bachelor party with plenty of young men, who were being entertained by three lingerie-wearing blondes. And a few seats next to him, at the bar, sat an elderly gentleman lost in discussion with the flamboyantly gay bartender. 

Alex preferred his gays on the sedated, quiet side. His life was demanding and loud and even wild at times. In his personal life, he wanted things to be tranquil. He very much enjoyed professionalism. He looked for sex, an occasional date, maybe, but mostly, he craved for things to work the way he wanted them to work. Goal-oriented and efficient. 

“Alex?” 

He spun around. 

_Fucking shit._

He was it, wasn’t he? The mysterious guy from the club, the other night. The sexiest, most incredible looking pair of shoulders he’d ever seen. And now, that he took a keen inventory of his other body parts while struggling not to drool or lick his lips hungrily, Alex found that the rest of him was looking mighty fine as well. 

And that royal blue tie really made his eyes pop out! “Hi.” 

“I’m Miles,” he said, flashing him a laidback smile. “Nice to meet you in person!” He extended his hand. 

Alex shook it. A firm grip. His devious mind instantly filled with the naughtiest of ideas and he hurried to force them back into the dark, deeply remote corner they’d escaped from. “Alex. Nice to meet you, too. Would you like anything to drink?” 

“What are you having?” Miles sat down and shrugged out of his suit jacket. “Whiskey?” 

Ripping his eyes away from the fine way with which the tight shirt clung to his frame, Alex nodded almost jerkily. “Yeah. It’s good.” 

“Alright,” chuckled Miles. “I’ll have the same.” 

Not even a minute in and here he was already, making a bloody fool of himself. Alex scolded himself. _Get a grip, man!_ _Get it soon!_ “So, what’s this night going to be like?” They had to start a conversation, else he’d drift off into a rousing fantasy that included shoulders and plenty of – Alex gulped the sultry thought away. “A sales pitch for your app? Or will you show me all the ladies who work here and ask me if one stands out to me?” 

Miles thanked the waiter for his drink and took a sip, then turned to face Alex. “Neither. You made it very clear that you don’t believe in my app and with all due respect to each and every woman working here, somehow I doubt you’d find one you like.” 

Alex raised his brow at being judged so fast. “Why? Do you think a working-class woman is too low brow for me? You think I’m snobbish or elitist?” 

“No, not at all. I think the women working here are too confident and self-assured to fit your preferences.” 

Ouch. “I like confident people.” 

“Everybody says that and, yet, you’d be amazed how few people actually mean that.” Miles observed him for a moment. “Here’s my first impression of you and correct me when I’m wrong, but your suit was fucking expensive. You paid big for that one and you’re wearing it to _our_ meeting, which tells me you’re trying to impress _me_ and not the ladies. If you wanted to impress them, you’d wear something different. Maybe a leather jacket. You no doubt have one. And don’t even pretend it didn’t cost a fortune as well! You’re not wearing a fancy, massive watch, which is a good thing. It means you’re not the kind of guy who wants to be known for his money. You’re drinking Whiskey. I like that. A man with taste and all that. Your phone is not on the bar in front of you, and that tells me you’re not work-obsessed and even more so, you’re not showing off how important you no doubt are in your job.” 

Alex sat back, greatly impressed. “All that from a minute of being in my company?” 

Miles shrugged cooly, with equal parts humor and confidence. “Told you I’m good!” 

_I bet you are!_

_Stop it!_ He admonished himself. 

“You're dead wrong, though. Work obsessed doesn't begin to describe me. I just don't like phones,” he quipped. “Let me try.” He took a sip from his drink and used that opportunity to really let his eyes roam over Miles’ hot physique. “You look good and you know it. And your suit cost more than mine! Those rings you’re wearing, they don’t match. You’re all about perfect style, so those rings mean something to you, and I like that in a person. You value things.” He couldn't spot a wedding band, though. But that was an observation he'd report on a later occasion, if there should be one. “There’s a certain arrogance to you. It’s very subtle and I haven’t noticed much of it, but it’s there. You know your place in this world and your worth. Your handshake is firm and I guess it comes with running a company. But you’re not intimidating and you’re not trying to be.” At least, Alex didn't feel intimidated. “You like meeting people. And I bet you’re the center of every party.” The last one he assumed based on his brief moment of watching him at the club. 

Miles nodded; his brows raised. “Remarkable!”

A shrug from Alex, which quickly followed up with a laugh. “Most of that, my mother told me.”

At that, Miles laughed as well. “ The rings,” he said, touching them, “are a gift of my mother.” 

“The meddling one?” 

“The very one. Love her dearly, but she’s…how to say this nicely…” 

“If she’s anything like mine, I’d say she’s overbearing, likes to think she knows best and, overall, is very, very mother-ish.” 

“Perfect description,” agreed Miles with a solid nod. “Head on.” 

“She’s best friends with my mom,” he reminded Miles, amused. “Two of a kind!” He glanced around, noticed the wide array of toplessness that now filled the club and frowned at Miles. “You’re not even looking. Are you that committed to your wife?” 

“Totally am,” said Miles. “That and…strip clubs aren’t mine. I feel kinda bad for looking.” 

A gentleman as well? Why the fuck wasn’t he gay, huh? God, if he were… The things Alex would be doing to him right now! He’d push him into the nearest backroom, strip him down and tie him to damn pole for his personal pleasure! 

“Alex?” 

_Shit!_

“Huh?” Had he drooled? He surreptitiously wiped his mouth. 

Miles grinned. “I said, you’re not paying much attention to the women either.” 

“It’s not my thing,” he said truthfully. 

“Should we leave, then? Grab a bite somewhere?” 

He wanted to spend time with him? Alex couldn’t help but smile at that, which rapidly turned into a nod. “Yeah, absolutely!” 

Miles paid for the drinks and then they made their way out. In front of the club, by the curb, Alex reached into his pocket, pulled out his cigarettes and held them up. “Want one?”

“Thanks!” Miles lit one for himself as well and as he let his attention wander along the streets, Alex did the same, noting a large Audi A8, sleek black, tilted windows, a driver waiting in the front. He hit Miles’ arm to catch his attention, snorting. “Pff! Some snob actually came with a…” When he noticed that Miles wasn’t laughing, not even smiling bemusedly, Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Your car?” 

“Yep.” 

He lowered his gaze to the ground. “Nice tires.” 

Now, Miles laughed. “It’s okay, relax. I’m not big on driving. I like this. Offers me the chance to get some work done while en route.” 

How much money did somebody make by _making_ an app, wondered Alex. “That app must be really popular. I mean…it’s a damned fine car!” 

“It is that,” conceded Miles. Whether he was talking about the app or the car, Alex couldn't say. “How’d you get here?” 

“Cab.” 

“Perfect! Get in, then.” 

Alex remained in place, took one last drag from his cigarette, tossed it away and crossed his arms, smirking. “Must I open my own door?” 

Miles proceeded to open it for him, shaking his head with a laugh. “Don’t get used to it!” 

“Can’t blame a guy. Just enjoying my fancy limousine moment!” Alex tipped his head as he got in.

“Like you can’t afford one,” said Miles, eyes crinkling as he got in as well. “Your mother sent my mother an article that was written about you and your birthday. You’re very successful, apparently. Some slime-ball reporter really sucked up to you writing that one, huh?” 

Alex turned his head away in embarrassment. “I can’t believe she sent that! Yeah, the reporter…forget it. Some kind of crawler he is.” 

“Happy belated Birthday, by the way.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Dinner is on me, then. Where would you like to go?” 

“Don’t really care. Anywhere is fine.” 

Miles leaned towards the driver. “Call ahead, let Anthony know we’re coming.” 

“Anthony?” 

“Best Italian restaurant in all of London. 

“Wow. Going all out tonight!” As he said it, Alex could have sworn he’d seen a blush creep up on Miles’ cheeks. But that would be ridiculous. Alex shrugged it off. It was likely just a flicker of light. 

\- 

The light was a little stronger, here, at the restaurant, and as Alex ate his strikingly delicious pasta, his eyes lingered on Miles’ face and the large but pale blue mark that he’d spotted a few minutes ago, on the upper edge of his forehead. 

Miles met his eyes with, the corner of his lips turned up slightly. “You’re staring at me. Why is that?” 

“You have like a massive bruise on your forehead. Did you bump into a wall or something?” 

Immediately, Miles reached up, touching the spot in question. “Silly story, actually. I played guitar. I love doing that. Not, like, in a band or something. Just for fun. At home. Played a little hard. Sort of got lost in it. Hit my head against a shelf.” 

While Alex was laughing heartily, he couldn’t believe that Miles, too, loved playing guitar. They had incredibly much in common, he’d discovered, and with each new thing he found himself more and more intrigued by him. “What guitar do you have?” 

“Like a dozen or so?” He was blushing slightly. “It’s stupid. I just play as a hobby. They are wasted on me, really.” 

“That many?” asked Alex, amazed. “What guitars? Tell me.” 

“Vintage Gibson electric. A few Fenders. There’s a black one, handmade, from Japan, that I kinda bought on the fly, even though it was scandalously expensive. I’m bad with guitars! But they are my weakness.” 

“I got a few Gretsch guitars,” confessed Alex. “A Gibson, too. A Fender. Some acoustics.” 

The awe in Miles’ eyes spread a funny warmth throughout Alex’s entire body. “Once you start with one,” he said. 

“You really can’t stop,” finished Alex. “I’d love to see that collection of yours some time.” 

“Likewise.” 

He’d really like to meet him again, found Alex. And not just because he was such a sexy sight to see. “I’m not sure who I expected when my mother told me that she’d arranged a meeting with you. But I certainly didn’t expect that I’d actually have fun tonight.” 

“Right?” Miles took a sip from his wine. “I imagined meeting this loner who is awkward and boring and then you come along.” 

“I’m not that?” 

“Not at all.” 

Alex hurried to take a sip from his wine, too, to mask the heavy gulp that he needed to make. “Tell me, Mr. Dating Agent Extraordinaire, am I a catch for your portfolio of clients?” He tried changing the topic back to something lighter. “Would I sell well?” 

“I doubt anyone would swipe you away,” Miles told him in seriousness. 

_Would you?_ Alex liked to ask. 

Half an hour, a bottle of wine and two desserts later, Alex leaned back and exhaled heavily. “This is by far the best restaurant I’ve been to in a long while!” 

“Anthony really knows how to cook!” Miles looked just as stuffed as Alex felt. 

“You often eat here? Or at restaurants?” 

“Sometimes. It’s convenient. But I love cooking. It’s just…I mostly eat alone, so…” 

“What about your wife?” 

“PR keeps her busy. She’s traveling a lot. Last year, we released the app worldwide and since then, the company really exploded with work.” 

“You got long workdays?” He couldn’t stop asking questions. Alex was dying to know as much as possible about his life. 

“Chaotic workdays,” Miles told him. “Sometimes I can leave and nobody calls for hours and other days I feel bombarded with demands and calls and decisions that have to be made. Don’t get me wrong. I got lucky. I have money and family and a wonderful wife and everything is good. I’m just not sure if this is really what I wanted from life. Know what I mean?” 

He did, actually. “Like you stepped into this life and somehow you got stuck in it? I always wanted to be a rock star when I was young. Never made it.” 

“Neither did I,” admitted Miles. “And I wanted to be one, too. How’d you end up becoming that business wizard people call you these days?” 

“By accident?” Alex shrugged. “I’m good at math. Always was. Music didn’t want me. Went to study business and, somehow, it turned out I got a knack for it. It’s not the worst life in the world.” 

“Just not the best one you dreamed of, either, right?” 

“No,” admitted Alex, struck by how honest he was. He kept his gaze on Miles as he finished his wine. “You could walk away from it all. You got the money, the wife, you could start over.” 

“You don’t become a rock star at age thirty. And this life…it’s all I’ve ever known. I’m comfortable with it. You could walk away, yourself.” 

“To do what?” 

“Become a rock star,” supplied Miles, chuckling. 

Alex grinned. “At age thirty? I guess I’m a lot like you. I know how to live my life as it is and I like that. And, so far, nothing and nobody has ever crossed my path to lead me astray. One day. Maybe. I don’t know. For now…” 

“We’ll remain who we are.” 

“Well-fed and slightly drunk,” added Alex. 

Miles laughed. “More wine?” 

“Yes, please.” 

He waved for the waiter. “Tell me more about you. What is it that you actually do for a living, aside from using your talent for numbers?” 

“Do you really want to know about my boring job?” wondered Alex, surprised. 

“I do!” 

“Consider yourself warned. It’s basically just adding up numbers. I own a small company and we advise other companies about their financial situation. It takes outsiders, sometimes, to see things clearly. We’re very honest in our assessment and we tell them whether or not they stand a chance for the future. And if not and they agree with us, we facilitate a sale and make our cut.” 

“Quite a profitable cut, I assume.” 

“I’ve been called a hyena and worse, so…yes.” 

“I’m surprised you don’t have a driver,” joked Miles. 

Alex smirked. “I like driving. But I got a nice car.” 

“I bet.” 

“Or two…” 

More laughter. 

“And a bike. But that’s a secret, understood? My mom doesn’t know that. She’d kill me if she found out. I’m trusting you with that information.” Alex wanted him to know. He wanted to impress him. He wanted Miles to find him interesting and cool and not brush him off as some stuck-up, suit-wearing business guy. It was pointless, truly. Miles was married, straight, and so far out of reach that there was no sense in even trying. But still. ‘Cause, if Miles were gay, then tonight would have marked their perfect first date. And, boy, would he have gone for a kiss at the end of it. A kiss and then some! 

Alex stopped himself short from biting his lip. “Tell me about your wife!” 

“What about her?” Miles smiled softly. “She’s perfect. Not much else to say.” 

“Was it really love at first sight? App and all?” 

A sly grin made its way to Miles’ face. He leaned forward, conspiratorially. “Here’s a secret for you. The app-part of our story might have been a thing for the press. We met while working together.” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” mocked Alex. “Miles! What a shameless PR move. I’m impressed!” 

“Are you?” 

“Yes. Thank you for being honest with me.” 

“Still willing to let me help you with the ladies?” 

The what? Oh. He’d completely forgotten! They had set out to meet for a reason! And that reason was not for Alex to develop a massive crush on a married man! “Sure. Knock yourself out. Advise me. But let’s move to the bar, first. I need something stronger than wine for that!” 

It was almost midnight. The restaurant was closed, the bar was crowded now. Miles sat next to Alex and both finished their third Whiskey. Alex’s head was leaning dangerously close to Miles’ shoulder, but the latter didn’t seem to mind and that, in turn, made Alex slink closer and closer to the line one ought not to cross. Miles' head dipped toward Alex, every now and then, whispering naughty jokes and rakish remarks to him. They clicked so damn well that it did Alex in. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d that much fun! 

“We’ve been sitting here for almost two hours now.” Miles’ words were drawled out. His eyes had a dark tint to it, one that Alex blamed on all that liquor they’d consumed, and his lips moved closer to his ear with each sentence he spoke. “You’ve yet to tell me about your preferences. Tell me the basics. Something to work with. The looks you like. Slim or curvy, small or tall, blonde or brunette. Long hair or—” 

“Short.” A tired smile clung to his lips as a sigh fell from his mouth. He liked him. Genuinely. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was all that alcohol, but Alex was done pretending. “Tall, fit, dark hair. Cut short. You’re my type.” He really wasn’t, actually. Alex had never had a type, truthfully. If he had a type, the main attribute would be ‘availability’. 

But Miles? He did things to Alex’s head! 

The strangest look appeared on Miles’ face. A mixture of humor and confusion and something else entirely. 

Alex shrugged helplessly. “I’m gay.” 

Miles’ eyes opened wide and he sat there understandably lost. A few seconds ticked by. “I’m pretty sure I was told to find you a woman. Was that a ‘lost in translation’ sort of mistake? Or…” 

“Nobody else knows.” Alex chuckled softly, finding it almost comical how out of it Miles looked. “Weird, right? Or not? I don’t know. I just thought you should know. You’re trying really hard to do what you were asked to do and, um…anyway.” 

A snort-like sound rolled from Miles’ nose. “This isn’t the type of thing that one brushes away with ‘anyway’. You’re gay and nobody knows.” 

“Well, the men I’ve been with know,” Alex added lightly. 

“How many were there?” 

Alex's jaw dropped in awe of that intrusive question. 

Miles turned bright red and looked away. “I don’t know where that came from. I should probably apologize for that one.” 

“Good idea,” nodded Alex, nonetheless amused. 

“Sorry!” 

Miles hadn’t leaned away, which meant that he didn’t have a problem with the fact that Alex had just confessed to his preference for the male gender. However, he appeared to be somewhat shaken by the admission and Alex eyed him with some bewilderment. “Is it really that shocking to you?” 

“No! I mean, not…” He blew out a breath, then tossed a sheepish grin at Alex. “I really didn’t expect that.” 

At that, he laughed. “I don’t suppose you did.” 

“Shall I help you find a man?” 

The laughter turned roaring. “Thank you, but, no, thank you. I’m doing fine on my own. And I’m not looking for a permanent relationship at any rate. Look, I feel bad that you had to spend your night with me because our mothers went their meddling ways. I didn’t want you to put in any effort in vain, so I told you. But mom doesn’t know and yours, obviously, doesn’t either. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d appreciate it greatly if you kept it to yourself. I’m not ashamed of it. And my parents would be cool with it. Life is just easier this way. At the moment, at least. I’m not hiding it. I’m very private, I guess, is the way to put it.” 

Miles’ head dipped towards Alex again, and the latter could have sworn that Miles had taken a little sniff at him. But Alex was drunk. And a bit out of it. So he wasn’t all that sure he could trust his own senses at the moment. 

Especially when Miles began to whisper, letting his voice sink into that raspy tone he liked so much. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

Well. 

At least he wasn’t the kind of guy who got all weird and awkward in the company of a homosexual, thought Alex. 

Miles ordered two more Whiskeys, then smiled at him, wide and open. “Thank you for trusting me. And I’ll have you know, I’m enjoying myself immensely in your company. I’m actually glad that we met. I quite like you, I must admit.” 

When Alex’s heart skipped a beat, or two, or half a dozen, he wanted to strangle that little fucker! “Me, too.” Who had allowed that fucking butterfly to take turns in his stomach, huh? He gulped his Whiskey down at once. 

“Thirsty, ey?” Miles smirked and did the same. “’nother?” 

“Bring it on!” 

“I’m so fucking drunk,” giggled Alex, stumbling down the corridor to his apartment. “’tis really unnecessary for you to bring me to my door. Very gentlemanly, but very unnecessesseary. Wait…that were too many s’s, right?” He stopped walking and blinked a few times. Then he stared at Miles, who stood right by his side.

Miles shrugged. “Possissibly.” 

Both laughed. 

“Are you holding on to me?” asked Alex, trying to look at Miles without losing sight of the goal, his door. 

“I’m holding you up,” explained Miles. “You’re holding on to me. You’re drunk.” 

“So are you!” 

“But I can still walk.” 

“’Cause you’re holding on to me!” 

“Why am I here?” 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” drawled Alex. “I don’t know!” It sure was dangerous, though! Historically speaking, being drunk was not a good state for Alex to be in when in the company of a hot guy. Liquor made him horny. Miles made him horny. Both added together made him _very_ horny. “You should go.” 

“Okay.” Miles stopped walking, paused, glanced around, then faced Alex. “I’m dizzy, can you walk me to the car?” 

Alex snorted. “After all that trouble of making it upstairs? Forget it.” 

“I’ll just sleep here then.” He was halfway down to the floor when Alex grabbed his arm and tugged him up, almost losing his own battle with balance in the process. 

“No, wait! Not here. Got a couch. Want a couch?” 

“Got my own couch.” 

“Not like that.” He rolled his eyes and he felt woozy, too. “To sleep.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“Okay.” The wobbled on. 

Alex managed to unlock his door and, finally, he and Miles stumbled inside, laughing the whole time for really no reason at all. 

“You got a big couch,” announced Miles, once he looked around. 

“I just remembered something.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I got a guest room, too.” 

“Where is it,” wondered Miles, halfway on top of the couch as he asked it. 

“Down the hallway,” announced Alex, pointing there. 

Miles sank down into the soft leather. “Too far away.” 

“Okay. Goodnight.” 

“Night,” murmured Miles. 

“My bedroom is that way,” Alex added for good measure, pointing to a different direction. “Just in case.” In case Miles needed emergency sex, thought Alex, drunk and frustrated and entirely out of it. 

Maybe it was morning, or maybe it was still the middle of the night and Alex had just fallen asleep. All he knew for sure was that he’d enjoyed a magnificently satisfying dream in which a mysterious man who’d looked remarkably similar to Miles had given him one hell of a blowjob! So, when he woke up, hard and unsatisfied, considering the man hadn’t been done yet by the time his dream got rudely interrupted, Alex was understandably foul-tempered. “Bloody fucking hell?!” 

“Sorry,” said Miles, sleepy and full of remorse, peeking through Alex’s bedroom door. “Looking for the bathroom.” 

“Other side of the hallway, left door.” 

“Thanks.” Miles wandered off. 

Alex squinted through the darkness, found himself thirsty beyond his ability to ignore it and got up. Barefoot, wearing briefs and the white button-down shirt from earlier, he headed for the kitchen and before long, Miles joined him there. 

“What time is it,” asked Alex, unable to recall how to read time, let alone remember where he’d find a spot from where to gather said information. 

“Almost six,” said Miles. His voice was low, hoarse, almost, and it sent shivers up and down Alex’s spine and, also, straight to some very erect part of his physique. He snuck a glance down at himself and found, with great relief, that his shirt was long enough to provide decent coverage. 

Miles was wearing his pants, crinkled though they were. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned. The jacket, he carried in his hand. “Got to go. Thanks for letting me crash here.” 

“Any time.” His eyes were glued to the smalls spot of exposed skin near Miles’ throat. Alex was dying to lean in, have a little lick, maybe a bit of a bite. 

“Alex?” 

He snapped out of his lust. “Huh?” 

Miles wiped a hand over his throat. “Do I got something there?” There was a slight grin on his face. And some irritation. He looked down, inspecting. 

“No! Sorry…sleepy…weird. Ignore me. See you?” 

“Yes, sure,” spoke Miles, in the same unenthusiastic manner with which one signed up for a bloody newsletter! 

Alex swallowed a scoff. “Well, see you, then,” he replied, a little half-assed. 

“Alright. See you.” Miles put his jacket on, and then he was gone. 

Alex stared after him, lost and confounded. He’d been so sure they’d gotten along great. A solid, big yawn escaped him. It was way too early to have these kinds of thoughts, he decided, grabbed a bottle of water and headed back to bed. 

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter Three **

#

Miles got up. “Why are you here?” 

Alex, observing Miles, got up as well. “You hung up on me, after not calling for a week. I wanted to know why!” 

“I didn't call?” Miles stopped in the midst of putting his jacket on. What a ridiculous statement. “You didn't call!”

#

“We can’t go out…” 

Miles stood in the doorway to Alex’s apartment and heard very little of what he was saying. Because Alex was wearing jeans. Tight jeans. And a white shirt. The old, worn kind that had frayed spots, the kind that you know you should toss away but never will, since it's your favorite and you like wearing it too much. It revealed his finely sculpted arms, his lean figure, his golden skin. God, he wanted to fist the fabric and pull, to bring Alex closer and closer and— 

“Miles?” Alex waited patiently for him to react. React to what, though? Shit, he should have paid attention! “Hunh?”

#


	3. The Slip Of A Hand

Miles sat in his office, behind his big and imposing desk, tie undone, head propped up on his hand, bored witless. It was one of those rare days where there was absolutely nothing to do and time just wouldn't pass. His wife was out of town, at an app conference. All departments were busy doing their every day tasks and his secretary was out for lunch. She'd offered to bring something back for him, but he'd done so fucking little this morning that he hadn't even managed to work up an appetite. Which, by itself, was a rare as well. 

He glanced at the clock even though he knew what time it was. Half a minute later than the last time he'd checked. But as he did, letting his eyes once again climb all the way up that wall, to the fucking ugly clock that hung across from him, he realized not for the first time that his beautiful, spacious, clean-cut office had become his worst nightmare. Damn interior designers and their foible for overpriced, tacky shit. His eyes dropped back down, to the couch. It was silver, that one. Crushed mohair. Looked as though an armada of glittery rats had been skinned and stitched together. He rolled his eyes and leaned back with a heavy sigh. 

Should he call him? Should he call Alex? He'd been playing with that thought for a while now. But why should he? There was absolutely no valid reason for him to do so. They had parted in an impressively awkward manner! 

Which was shocking! The whole evening, they'd gotten along marvelously. They had laughed endlessly. They had joked and talked and been strikingly honest with each other. Especially when Alex had confided in him and informed him that he was gay. It had been a deeply personal information that he’d offered to a veritable stranger and at the bottom of a long list of things he’d felt, for example being blown-away, delighted, and confused, there had also been the feeling of gratefulness for being trusted this quickly.

Miles had been more than tempted to confess then and there that his own romantic life was a farce and that he would love nothing more than find the nearest hotel and have a go with him but… 

No! 

Sex wasn't everything. 

Despite the fact that he was unbelievably, insanely, stupidly attracted to him! 

Shit, when he'd entered the strip club and had spotted him sitting there, at the bar, by himself, Miles had instantly known that it had been Alex. He'd taken note of the fancy suit, he'd admired the way he carried himself, and he'd recognized that air of success that oozed from him. Instead of walking inside, he'd huddled against the nearest wall, hiding for a few minutes, trying to mask the fact that he'd felt an immediate and startlingly strong pull towards him. 

Horny at first sight! 

He'd bloody laughed at himself! 

But despite all of that, he'd also enjoyed Alex's mere companionship! Talking with him about all sorts of things came about natural and easy and he'd known from the very first moment that he'd like to be friends with him. 

Until Miles had fallen asleep on Alex's couch, that was. Or, rather, until he'd woken Alex up from what Miles could only assume had been a sex dream. 

He'd been on his way to the bathroom, but he hadn't had the slightest idea where to find it. He'd gone looking for it. Then he'd heard loud moaning and had promptly hit his big toe against some really weird-ass cabinet that he, personally, would have never placed at that spot in the hallway right next to a bedroom door! 

That thing was destined to ruin toes! 

Anyways, he'd heard muffled sounds, then, and he'd assumed he'd woken Alex up accidentally. Curious idiot that Miles was, he'd carefully opened the bedroom door and he'd asked Alex for directions. 

He shouldn't have done that. He should have knocked. No, he should have ventured on. Actually, he should have never even crashed on that fucking couch to begin with! But he'd been so damn drunk! 

All of that had happened six days ago. And he hadn't heard back from Alex once. Not that he had reached out to Alex, since then. 

Miles' phone rang. 

He reached for it so hastily that he promptly flung it off the desk. 

“Smooth, Kane,” he derided himself. 

Moving off his chair, bending down and retrieving his phone, Miles then sat back down, checked who'd called and grunted. He called back. “Mother. To what do I owe the pleasure of – what is this, the fifth call within a week?” 

“The fourth,” she corrected, simultaneously dismissing his objection. “I wanted to know if you'd found a good match for Alex.” 

“No, I haven't. As I've told you already. Repeatedly,” he added for good measure. He could practically feel her disapproval. 

“Is it really too much to do some…whatever it is that you do with that thing on your phone or whatever and send him a few phone numbers? Penny called this morning. She wanted to know if Alex already had a date set up. What am I supposed to tell her, son?” 

“The truth?” 

“Which is?” 

“That I haven't found a match yet?” 

“How hard can that be, though?” 

Well, for starters, he'd have to find him a man and not a woman. And also, as if! If Alex wanted a guy, he'd have to find one on his own. Miles would not help him find some nice and good looking male specimen when he wanted him for himself! Only, he couldn't have him! 'Cause Miles was fake-married. And Alex didn't know that Miles was gay. And even if Alex knew, it'd still be impossible! Their mothers knew each other! And Alex clearly, as far as Miles knew, didn't have any sort of interest in him, anyway! 

Then it occurred to him. Oh, this was the perfect excuse to call Alex! Miles sat up straight. He could call him to let him know that their mothers were wondering how things had gone! A solid reason to have a phone conversation! “I got to go, mom.” 

“What? Now? Why? Don't you have a lunch break or something? You should really work less, sweetheart. All that stress, it's not good for you!” 

Ha! He had every intention of taking a lazy, extended nap, actually. But if she knew, she'd only drop by or keep him on phone for another hour to fill him in on every gory detail of his uncle's ingrown toenail removal. That was a story he could truly do without! “No break. Very busy today! Love you, mom. We’ll talk soon!” Once the call was over, he scrolled through his contacts and found Alex's number. 

He hit dial. 

“Who's that?” Alex picked after the first ring, rushed, grumpy and rude. “Can it wait? I'm busy.” 

Miles huffed indignantly at his clipped words. “So am I!” Small lie.

“Then why are you calling? Who is this?” 

“Miles!” He snapped, fed up with that hectic conversation style Alex was forcing on him. “Miles Kane!” 

A pause. “Oh.” 

“Yes.” Some indignation dripped into his words. “Just lil' ol' me.” 

“Sorry.” Alex was speaking slower, now. Less annoyed. “One of those days. Look, I don't want to be bad-mannered. But I really am busy.” 

“Alright. Bye.” Miles hung up. That was that, then. Alex didn’t want to talk to him right now. Fine. He put his phone back on the desk, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. In lack of any work to be done, he might as well take his nap now. Arms crossed behind his head, feet up on the desk, he quickly dozed off. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!” 

Miles startled, tore his eyes open and moved in such a flurry of rushed movements that the big leather spinning chair in which he sat stood no chance to do its job. In a matter of seconds he found himself on the floor, on his butt, rubbing his sore back, trying to figure out how he'd ended up there in the first place. “Ouch! Fuck! Damnit!” He looked up warily, slid his gaze across the room, and found his secretary Doreen, a very somber looking woman in her late sixties, giggling into her hands like a little school girl. Alex Turner, standing next to her, had no shame or decency to match. He was laughing loud and unabashedly. 

Great.

“You said you were busy!” Alex leaned against the door, arms crossed, a look of bemused disbelief on his face. It gradually morphed into disapproval. 

Miles got up and, in an attempt to hide the fact that he was embarrassed to say the least, he met his eyes squarely and tilted his chin up in defiance. “Well, I was!” 

“Napping?” Alex's brows curved upward. “That's how you make your money?” 

“Doreen?” Miles decided to ignore Alex for the moment, to give his pride a chance to recuperate. “Why did you let him in?” 

She cleared her throat. “Mr. Turner let me know he had an urgent appointment with you. He told me you'd spoken to him about twenty minutes ago and since I just got back from lunch, I had no chance to verify that, so I erred on the side of—” 

“Me,” finished Alex impatiently. “I was in the middle of a very tense contract negotiation when you called.” His tone was hard. “And then you hung up on me!” 

“Thanks, Doreen, it's okay.” Miles waited for her to leave the room and as she did, Alex fully entered it. He walked straight to the couch and sat down. 

Miles bit back a grin, but obviously failed, when Alex gave him an odd look. 

“What's so damn funny?” 

“You're wearing a black suit.” 

The odd look turned into a blank one. “So?” 

He was tempted to point out that this clusterfuck of a couch that hardly deserved the name tended to leave its nasty hairs on every fabric and person it encountered. But, Miles wasn't all that fond of Alex's current attitude, let alone that unfriendly sound of his voice. Therefore, he found nothing wrong with Alex gaining a few hundred kilograms in lint. “Never mind. You were saying?” He sat back down behind his desk, massive and imperial that it was, and portrayed a look as haughty and as commanding as he could muster. Nothing like some good, old fashioned power play to set the scene. 

Crossing his legs, Alex was glaring now. “You gave me the impression that you had something of importance to share with me. And as I said, you hung up. Rudely, I might add.” 

“And because of that, you left that 'very tense contract negotiation' to do what? Scold me for it?” The idea of it seemed bloody ridiculous and Miles didn't believe it for one second. “For real?” 

Eyes small and focused, Alex sank deeper into the cushions. “Don't flatter yourself. The negotiation was done.” A faint sneer curved his upper lip. “I got what I wanted.” 

“Naturally,” drawled Miles. 

“Are you mocking me?” 

“No! I would never.” Maybe a little bit. 

Miles observed him as he nestled into the soft, cushiony seat and he allowed himself to get distracted by the way Alex's face softened. “This couch is really comfortable,” he marveled.

Yeah, comfortable and a danger to the public! “Buy it,” Miles offered spontaneously. “A hundred bucks. Then it's yours. Tell you what, I'll even toss in free delivery.” 

At that, Alex eyed him warily. “It must have cost twenty times that much!” 

Twenty times, a hundred times… 

Miles waved a hand. “Nah,” he lied. “Sale and all that. Take it.” 

“Why are you trying to dump your couch on me?” 

“You said you liked it.” 

“I like your car,” retorted Alex, incredulously. “Will you throw that in as well?” 

He was tempted to, if it meant the couch would disappear! 

His roaring stomach called him out of his generous thoughts. Attention back on Alex, Miles got up. “Why are you here?” 

Alex, observing Miles, got up as well. “You hung up on me, after not calling for a week. I wanted to know why!” 

“I didn't call?” Miles stopped in the midst of putting his jacket on. What a ridiculous statement. “You didn't call!” 

“Why would I call you? You basically ran out on me that morning! I didn't get the impression that you wanted me to call!” 

“That's so not true,” countered Miles. “I felt like you wanted me to go away.” 

“I did not!” 

“Yes, you did!” 

“No, I—” The words died on Alex's lips. “What are we doing?” 

Miles stopped, too. “Bickering?” Like two teens after their first date, with neither one willing to admit that they liked each other. 

Alex chuckled. “Why did you call?” He asked it much nicer this time around. Gone was all that agitation and temper. 

Jacket shrugged on, Miles reached for his drawer and pulled out a lint roller. “My mother called me to let me know that I've failed her and now she's forced to tell your mother that you still haven't found the mother of her future grandchildren. I wanted to give you a heads-up.” He held up the lint roller. “You'll need that.” 

Alex looked down at himself, then back, over his shoulder. “Bloody hell? I look like a Yeti exploded all over my back!” He got out of his jacket and grabbed the roller. “What fucked up couch is this?” 

“Interior designers. Weird people, I tell you!” 

Snorting, Alex continued de-linting. “Don't I know!” 

“Couch?” asked Miles. 

“Table,” explained Alex. 

“Ah. Pants, too,” remarked Miles, absentmindedly sneaking a lingering look at his nicely shaped ass. 

Alex put his jacket on. He groaned and went back at it with the roller. 

“I'm headed for lunch. Wanna come?” 

“Sure. Hey, were you really busy or—” 

“Fucking bored out of my mind,” confessed Miles, laughing. 

“Unbelievable,” muttered Alex.

  
  


They wound up at the nearest  _ Subway _ and ate by the window, gazing out, observing the busy street life of a Monday afternoon. “You got a massive office,” Alex pointed out, awe in his voice. “And the floor that your offices are on – I mean, that's a fancy skyscraper you guys are residing in!” 

Miles finished his bite, a fierce grin on his face. “You really are shocked that my company is successful, aren't you?”

“Not shocked, no. Though, I am,” admitted Alex eventually, almost apologetically. “I've never met a guy that runs an app. I imaged you'd be some programming nerd living in his mother's basement or something. That sounds rude and cliché, I know. Honestly, that company you run? Don’t take it the wrong way, but I my professional curiosity got the best of me and I kinda asked around. That's like a multi-million Pound business!” 

And then some, Miles thought. Yes, business was good these days! “We're expanding.” He was proud of that and not afraid to show it. “We're launching two more apps. One for men only and one for women only. We also consider offering a sort of risqué affair app of some kind but we're still not sure how to combine that with our firm's message of love.” Miles glanced at Alex with a smirk. “Two more years, a good run and continued success, we hope to crack the one-billion mark.” He winked. “How's that, huh?” Miles leaned a little towards Alex, whose breath, he found, hitched just the slightest bit. To know he had that effect on him gave him the strangest sense of accomplishment. It sparked up his impulsive side and it made him shift yet another inch closer. “Here's another secret for you. All that success and I don't even know shit about apps and programming!” 

Scooting somewhat away from Miles, Alex gave a quick laugh before he grabbed his sub and took a bite. Miles liked to imagine that he saw a blush on his cheeks. 

“Why aren't there any images of you on the web?”

“Did you google me or what?” 

He was definitely blushing now. “Um…when I tried to find information about your company I…” Alex snuck a sideways glance at him, lowered his head, and smiled cheekily. “Fine, I did. I was curious!” There was a meticulously concealed mischievousness to him that gripped Miles’ imagination tight and filled his thoughts with all kinds of naughty scenarios. Alex was well-behaved and a true professional, but deep down, covered behind fine silk and fancy shirts, there was a dark and frisky side that he yearned to lay bare. He saw little signs of it in the way Alex smiled, when his eyes would sparkle and carry the vaguest hint of a deeper emotion. As if luring him in, daring him to uncover the secrets he kept hidden. 

“At first, I wanted to know what you looked like.” Alex’s coy smile widened. “Then my interest got bigger. My professional interest,” he added slyly. 

Miles chuckled. “Well, what does the business genius think about my humble little company?”

“I don't think your mother has any idea how big your company actually is, else she would have told my mother, who then would have told me. 'Cause that's what she does.” He finished his coke, put it away and fully faced Miles. “As for my opinion, you're doing really well. And if you ever plan on selling, please hire me. I'd love a piece of that cake! You're paying for lunch, by the way.” 

Miles laughed at that. “My pleasure!” He tried his hardest to keep his attention were it belonged. On his eyes, in a polite and respectful manner. But every now and then, his gaze sank lower, to his plumb lips, that perfectly shaped bow, and he itched to reach out and brush his thumb across the lower one. He wanted to trace it so badly. To feel its texture. Its softness. Biting his cheek, tearing his focus away, it accidentally landed on Alex's tie and Miles' own lips curved upwards. “There's a ketchup stain on your tie.” 

Alex looked down and cursed. “Damnit! I got a meeting later! Fuck. Any place that sells ties around here?”

Miles took off his own. “Take it. I'm going home anyway.” 

Alex hesitated. “I can get a new one.” 

“I know,” said Miles while handing his own to him. “No need, though. It's a tie. Here!” 

Reluctantly taking it and putting it on, Alex offered a gracious smile and nod. “Thanks.” 

“You're welcome.”

“Why are you going home?” A look of disgust befell him. “Don't tell me you're done for the day.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“You told me not to say it.”

Laughter. “Un-fucking-believable! 

“Jealous, aren't you? That I get to go home and you have your meeting? It's a boring one, isn't it? It has to be, if it requires a tie!”

“Go ahead and rub it in, then! Yes, I'd like to be filthy rich and bored, too!” 

Miles stuck out his tongue. It was silly and stupid and ridiculous, but Alex was laughing, and so was he, and he didn't mind being rash and immature in his presence. And before he really knew what he was suggesting or why he was doing it, the words were out. “Got plans tonight?”

For a second, surprise flashed on Alex's face. Then it left and a vague expression of intrigue took over. “Why?” 

Why? Good question. Miles had no idea! He had no plans, no suggestions, no ideas of what to do. All he knew was that he'd like to spend more time with him. In lack of better proposals, he shrugged, and went for first thing to came to his head. “Would you like to go for drinks?”

“I would.” 

He would? Miles felt elated and fought to keep his smile under control. “Great. Eight? Shall I pick you up?”

“With your fancy driver? Sounds good!” The look on Alex's face had a bit of an impish tilt to it. And Miles felt himself drawn to it.

The smile broke out to full capacity at last. “Alright.” 

“Alright,” nodded his new friend delightedly. 

-

“We can’t go out…” 

Miles stood in the doorway to Alex’s apartment and heard very little of what he was saying. Because Alex was wearing jeans. Tight jeans. And a white shirt. The old, worn kind that had frayed spots, the kind that you know you should toss away but never will, since it's your favorite and you like wearing it too much. It revealed his finely sculpted arms, his lean figure, his golden taint. God, he wanted to fist the fabric and pull, to bring Alex closer and closer and— 

“Miles?” Alex waited patiently for him to react. React to what, though? Shit, he should have paid attention! “Hunh?”

Alex's face lit up with humor. “I said, would you like to come inside? That negotiation I told you about, earlier? The contract needs to get signed today, before midnight. There was a typo in the original one – a wrong number – long story. A notary is on his way here with the papers. I can’t leave.”

“No drinks, then.” Shit, why did he sound so desolate? “Raincheck,” he suggested, attempting to pretend it was nothing to him.

“I ordered Chinese!” Alex still held on to the door. “And I got alcohol. Unless you want to go out without me?”

“Yes! No. I mean…” Wow, he really was on top of his game today, wasn’t he? He scratched his ear self-consciously, then offered a smile. “Food sounds great.” 

“Perfect,” beamed Alex, amused. “Food should be here soon. How was the rest of your day?” He quirked his brow, taunting him. “Stressful?”

“Oh yes!” Miles shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair, slipping right back into that banter they were prone to. “Exhausting. All that napping and doing nothing. That really got to me!” 

“I can imagine,” assured Alex in mock sympathy. “Do you need something strong to calm down after all that hard work?”

“Let’s see what you’ve got!” 

“Whiskey, some wine, tequila, water–”

“Tequila.” 

A snort of laughter from Alex. “Going for the good stuff, huh?” He headed for the vintage liquor cabinet by the wall. 

Miles, meanwhile, used the time to really inspect Alex’s apartment. Last time he’d been here, he’d been too drunk and too tired, plus it had been dark. Save for his intimate encounter with the mean furniture in Alex's hallway, Miles had seen remarkably little of his place. Which was sad, he now realized, because it was a nice apartment. Wide rooms, an open design, tall ceilings. He already knew that he liked his comfortable leather couch and that it served as a great makeshift bed. 

His eyes landed on the kitchen table and a short bark of a laugh escaped his throat. A fucking huge monstrosity of a table, for sure! “Looks sturdy.” 

Alex grinned dirtily. “Haven’t put it to the test yet!” 

“Not what I meant,” countered Miles, chuckling. Well, maybe he had meant it. 

_ Use me for the test _ , his filthy mind chimed in. Miles ignored that dirty fucker and walked up to the table, leaning his butt against the edge of it. “You got a nice place.” He still wasn't done taking everything in. It was very stylish, that much was undeniable. And yet, it seemed impersonal.

“There's hesitation in your voice,” noted Alex, coming to stand in front of him whilst handing him a shot glass and a slice of lime. “Be honest.”

Miles clinked his glass against Alex's, swallowed back the drink and bit down on the fruit. He grimaced. “Good one!”

Alex, having done the same, put the glass on the table and crossed his arms, hip cocked to one side. “Answer. I want to know.”

“Reminds me of my office.” His hands went to the table, to rest his weight on them. Eyes were glued to Alex, who was standing entirely too close for comfort. On second thought, tequila was, as always, a really bad idea! “Polished and all that. But…don't know. Guess it's different than what I imagined.” He treaded carefully with his words. This friendship of theirs was new and he wasn't all that sure how blunt he could be before hitting too hard.

Alex's face was somber and stern and Miles wondered if he'd already gone too far. But then a laugh broke free and he instantly relaxed. “Hate it. Miss my old place. But I had to move. I don't like wasting time looking for things so I had an agency find me a place and some people filled it with furniture. I just wanted to move in.”

“They picked a nice couch!”

“That one I've had for years,” Alex pointed out. “Some things a guy needs to pick himself.”

“Oh yes, else he ends up with mohair!”

“Come on, let me show you the rest. You've already seen the guest bathroom—”

“And the hallway. Which brings me to a very important question. Why the fuck do you have a toe killer right next to your bedroom door?”

Alex groaned. “'Cause it's fucking heavy thing and I almost died trying to move it away! The movers placed it there for no reason at all.”

Miles paused in front of it. It was a gaudy, for certain, and it matched no other pieces that filled this place. He felt Alex’s gaze on him and looked up, concerned, when he flashed him a smirk. “What?”

“You're fit, right?” That smirk slipped away and something much more wicked came its way. Alex’s hand patted the rectangular piece of fancy wood.

Miles raised both hands, waved them in front of himself. “No! That's not what I came for! You offered Chinese and lured me in with drinks!”

“Come on! The guest room is basically empty. I'll never get that thing there by myself. You're strong and fit and got a nice set of arms!”

Whether it was mocking or not, Miles sure liked to think that Alex had noticed. Miles had definitely noticed Alex's alluring physique. Flattery or not, though. “You want me to move furniture right now?” A scoff. “Where is the guest room?”

Scratching his neck sheepishly, Alex nodded towards the other end of the hallway. “Last one right.”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

Alex’s eyes turned pleading. “I'll make it worth your while.”

_ Will you blow me? _

He grunted hard.  _ Fucking shove it _ , he told his mind. “I don't believe I'm doing this.” He really couldn’t!

“Thank you!”

Miles, who'd gone for jeans and a shirt himself and who was now very grateful to have made that choice, bent his knees, grabbed that thing, and waited for Alex to do the same.

Alex mirrored his moves. Took a hold of the cabinet. “Ready. Go!”

Miles tried to lift. “Fuck, that's heavy!”

“Told you!” Alex kept going. “Put some muscle into it! Come on!”

“How about you empty it out first!”

“It is empty,” snapped Alex. “Lift!”

“I am lifting!” They got it moving. Slowly. “Have I mentioned that my family has a history with prolapsed discs?”

Alex snorted a laugh, then grumbled when the cabinet began to slip. “Stop joking!”

“I wasn't! Stop!” He was laughing, too. And he really didn't want to! Leaning up and meeting Alex's eyes, Miles huffed. “What's that we made? Half a meter?”

“Less, I fear.” It now blocked Alex's bedroom door. “This was a stupid idea!”

“No shit,” agreed Miles wholeheartedly, still laughing. He blew out a breath and got back into position. “When this is over, you owe me a big, fat dinner and then some! And back rub,” he mumbled.

“On three,” announced Alex.

“Three!”

“Move,” shot Miles. “Come on.”

“I am,” hissed Alex.

It took half an hour to maneuver the massive piece of furniture down the hallway. By the time they reached the guest room, both were sweaty and breathless.

“It's a fucking ugly cabinet,” Miles let Alex know as they heaved it through the doorway.

“Belonged to my dead aunt.”

“That's supposed to make me feel bad?”

Alex snickered. “Maybe?”

“Why do you even have it? It's empty and you hate it, too. I can tell!” He'd called a vile list of names while struggling to get it where it now was.

“Don't know. Somehow, it ended up here. Maybe one day I will put stuff in it.”

Miles wiped his damp forehead, stretched his neck and took a deep breath. “Last bit. Ready?”

“Let's get this over with.”

A minute later, the cabinet sat against the wall in the mostly empty guest room. “Hallelujah!” Exclaimed Miles and sat down on the pristinely made bed, only to drop back into the soft blanket. “That'll save me a trip to the gym tomorrow.”

Alex sank down onto the mattress, next to him. “Work out a lot?”

Miles glanced at him. He flexed one arm as his left brow curved up, challenging him to pay attention to it. “I do.”

Barking more laughter, Alex curled his own arms underneath his head. “Show-off!”

“I need it,” explained Miles, grinning. “All that work in my office and being stuck inside all day – working out helps me clear my head. And as a nice side-effect I'm capable of lifting heavy cabinets.”

“You wish! You were struggling hard with that thing!”

“Was not,” retorted Miles.

“You were!” Alex rolled to his side, perpetually smirking.

Miles' whole focus was instantly drawn to Alex's exposed arms. He definitely worked out, as well. Those muscles and lines…they were doing crazy things to his imagination. And that full head of hair he had? Miles could cry, that's how desperate he was to grip it and just… _ argh _ ! Being on top of a bed with him was messing with his control and he got up, in dire need of distance and more tequila. “I think we deserve more alcohol now!”

“Absolutely!”

An hour later, the notary had come and gone, they had eaten, and emptied way more of that tequila bottle than they should have done. Miles sat on the couch, sunken into the cushions, roaring with laughter as Alex sat next to him, telling with great detail and flair how he'd run into Paul McCartney a while ago without recognizing him. “…so I'd asked him if he knew where I could find the beans!”

“You thought he worked at the supermarket?” Miles was shaking, now. Tears lined his eyes and his face was red. “What did he say?”

“Second row to the left!”

“This is the best story I've heard in my life!”

“Gets worse,” wheezed Alex, placing his drink away and leaning back. “Somehow, it came to me that it was, indeed, Paul McCartney! So I grab my cart, turn around and say, 'thanks, Paul', like it's a fucking every-day thing to have a  _ Beatle _ tell you where the damn beans are!”

Miles was gasping for air, but in a heartbeat all the laughter vanished away. Somehow, Alex's hand wound up on his stomach. The world's most casual touch, really. It was just resting there, fingers spread, searing his skin and leaving burn marks. Did Alex not notice? He was still lost in his story. And it was a good story. Miles loved it. If only he could concentrate on it! All of his senses, though, were busy. Suddenly, he was flooded with an overwhelming amount of details that he became aware of. Alex's fragrance. The rich and heady smell of what he could only describe as the world's finest cologne mixed with his own scent. He longed to press his nose into the fine hollow of his throat and breathe him in, trace his golden skin with his tongue, taste his texture. Put his lips to the base of neck and kiss each tremor that his pulse produced.

Alex was a fucking stranger! And, yet, Miles could swear he'd known him all of his life! How could be so attracted to him? And why was life so cruel to make it impossible for that attraction to go somewhere? If he leaned in, if he allowed himself to bite into this deliciously forbidden fruit, there'd be hell to pay!

Suddenly, Alex jerked his hand away. Not just his hand. His scooted away from him entirely.

Miles blinked, ripped out of his own wayward thoughts.

“Fuck,” cursed Alex, facing away. “Sorry. Guess that tequila is getting to me! I didn't mean to—”

“'Tis alright,” Miles assured quickly, failing to keep his own mind under control. “Honestly.”

“I know you're married and…” He sounded greatly shaken. “Shit!”

“Alex, it's okay.” He bumped his shoulder as Alex rubbed his face in disgust. “Seriously, take it easy!”

“We should probably call it a night.”

What? Why? Because of some innocent little touch? Miles reached for his glass and downed the rest of his drink. It wasn't innocent, was it? As far as Alex was concerned, Miles was straight and happily married and Alex had gone and made a move on him. The truth was that Miles wasn't straight and wanted nothing more than for Alex to make a big move on him, but that was a secret he could never tell. Maybe Alex was right. Maybe they were a little too drunk to be alone together. Getting up, needing much longer than he'd expected to stand steady, he turned to Alex and shocked himself when he did a really bad thing. He reached out, placed two fingers gently beneath his chin and tilted it up. As he did that, the very tip of his index finger traced the skin of his jaw ever so lightly.

Alex's eyes were wide as saucers. His mouth was agape.

Miles was overcome with the filthiest of images. “It's okay. Forget about it.” Then he let go and walked away as fast as he could, afraid if he stayed, he’d actually fuck up for real. He grabbed his jacket and left.

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter Four:**

#

“This is your office, then?” Miles glanced around and Alex found that his face was incredibly telling and strikingly easy to read. Whenever he found an item that interested him, his forehead moved ever so slightly. He had the tiniest dimples that appeared each time something amused him. And next to that, he also happened to be fucking blunt. “It’s smaller than mine.” 

“Size matters to you?” wondered Alex, dryly. 

An astonished snort. “Wow.” He leaned back, to Alex’s dismay, pleasantly entertained. “Rough night, huh?”

#

His hand slid down, an increment only, but there was movement. Friction. Alex inhaled sharply as his tone became cutting. Threatening. “What is this?” 

“Me groping you,” spoke Miles, unperturbed. He pulled his hand away as though he had all the time in the world, all the while sounding not nearly as affected as Alex felt, but to his utter amazement, he didn’t sound unaffected, either.

“There.” Miles’ eyes moved up, from Alex’s stomach, languidly, taking inventory, ‘til they reached his face. “We’re even now.” As if to say, what’s the big deal? “Can we please leave this whole episode behind us now?”

#


	4. The Morning After

Alex had gone to bed with the imprint of Miles' fingers against his chin and he felt them there long after Miles had left. 

He'd never been more grateful for anything in his life than he had for Miles to leave at that very moment. 'Cause if he hadn't left, if he'd stayed, then Alex would have grabbed Miles' belt, he would have torn his pants open and he would have given him the kind of blow job that turned even the straightest man into Elton Fucking John! 

He liked being in control. He got off on being dominant and getting things done a certain way but the expression on Miles’ face when he had looked at him, sporting a grin so fucking smug that it oozed and dripped with sex-appeal, had left Alex feeling wildly aroused and shockingly willing to surrender wholly. 

Even now, six hours and some god-awful sleep later, he still felt that tingling need in every crevice of his body. As he rolled onto his back, his hand went straight to his cock and he gave himself some good, hard strokes while imagining Miles on top of him, doing the stroking for him. 

His teeth sank into his bottom lip and he squirmed and groaned and whispered Miles' name again and again. His grip got firmer, his movements jerky. His breathing got wild and his thoughts filthy until he finally spilled himself into his clean sheets.

He really needed some sex or he was going to fucking combust soon! 

When his alarm rang, he grabbed his phone and tossed it away. “Fuck this.” Curling up against the pillow, pretending it was Miles, pathetic though that was, Alex went back to sleep. 

By the time he arrived at work, his assistant, some eager twenty-something young woman who interned at his office for a few months, greeted him with what Alex could only describe as entirely unwarranted harshness.

“You're fucking late,” she snarled. “I had to lie to the lawyer who waited half an hour for you. Told him your cat died!” 

“My–” He was sexually frustrated, tired to the bone, his mood was piss-poor to say it kindly and he was this close to blowing a fuse. “I don't have a cat,” he seethed, “and I certainly wouldn't be late if it died!”

“That just makes it so much worse,” she snipped, shoved an iPad into his hand and spun around with an indignant huff. “Men…”

If this was any indication for what the rest of his day was going to be like, then he was tempted to go back to bed. With rolling eyes, he entered his office. 

“You have a cat?”

“You haven't heard? It died.” Alex closed the door behind him and cursed inwardly. Just the guy he wanted to see right now. He drew in a deep breath, loosened his tie, which at the moment felt more like a noose than a fashion accessory, and exhaled hard. “Miles…about last night—”

A despondent sigh filled the silent air and Miles rubbed his neck, not meeting his eyes. “Can we please forget about it?”

He'd love to, but he'd all but thrown himself at him. At a straight man. A married, straight man! He'd broken the one rule he'd sworn he'd never break! No meddling with other people's relationships! There were enough men for everybody. There was no reason why he'd have to steal one away from somebody else! No. He couldn’t forget about it. He didn’t deserve to forget about it. Forcing himself to do some more apologizing, he stepped further into the room, leaned against his desk and was ready for some solid self-flagellation. His intent got short-stopped when he saw that Miles still rubbed his neck. “You alright?”

“Somebody made me lift some heavy shit last night,” groveled Miles, tersely. “Think I pulled a muscle or something.” 

Great. More to feel bad for! He truly should have stayed in bed. 

A knock on the door disrupted his mental self-punishing. His assistant's head peeked inside. “The lawyer is back. Is this going to take any longer?” She glared at his visitor with staggering disapproval. “It’s not like he had an appointment.”

“He doesn’t need one,” griped Alex, ripping her glower away from Miles and inadvertently bringing it upon himself. “Tell the lawyer to wait.” 

“What? He's…” She lowered her voice, stuck her head in further and, overall, displayed outrage at the mere suggestion. “He's a fucking asshole and he doesn't like waiting!” 

“I'm having a meeting,” he retorted. 

“One that wasn’t scheduled with _me_. How do you expect me to do my job if you don’t stick to the timetable?”

“Your job is to make sure I get to do what I want, when I want it, however I want it, without getting interrupted!”

“My job is to make sure you don’t do what you want, when you want it, no matter how you want it. My job is to get you to stick to the fucking schedule!” She reached up and tossed a strand of her hair back over her shoulder, effectively dismissing him with a mere gesture. Who the hell had decided that this snotty student would fit well in here? Who in HR had dared to present him with somebody who talked back? He was the boss around here. He set the tone. He lay out the law of the land.

Janine raised a hand, curled her fingers and inspected her nails with great flair. “Unless you want to me complain at HR.” With that, she slammed the door shut behind her. 

Well. At least, he liked to think that he was the boss. 

Blowing out a breath so loaded and long it might as well have filled an entire hot air balloon, Alex looked away from the door, to Miles, and brought up his palm to wipe his face when he found him grinning as though he’d just witnessed some formidable comedy.

“Charming. I like her!”

“Don't start,” Alex warned. “Was there something else you wanted or—”

“This is your office, then?” Miles glanced around and took his damn time inspecting each and every aspect and item he came across. Alex used that moment of quietness to observe him and learned that his face was incredibly telling and strikingly easy to read. Whenever his focus landed on something that interested him, his forehead moved ever so slightly. He had the tiniest dimples that appeared each time something amused him. And next to that, he also happened to be fucking blunt. “It’s smaller than mine.” 

“Size matters to you?” wondered Alex, dryly. 

An astonished snort. “Wow.” He leaned back, to Alex’s dismay, pleasantly entertained. “Rough night, huh?”

“Could say so.” 

And just like that, like popping a balloon, all humor was gone. Miles got up and, for a split second, Alex half-hoped that he’d leave. It wasn’t what he wanted. And if pressed for it, he couldn’t say what it was that he did want. But it’d be nice if all that awkwardness would vanish. It would certainly make things easier! Forcing himself not to let his gaze linger on him, Alex nonetheless noted the careful and deliberate manner with which Miles moved, clearly avoiding jerky motions. He was in pain, obviously. Alex's mood tanked even further. Not only had he mauled him, he'd injured him, too.

But Miles didn't leave. “Last night was—”

“Embarrassing?” Alex suggested, self-deprecatingly. “Awful? Humiliating?”

“I was gonna say strange.”

“ _You_ didn’t grope _me_ , so…”

Eyes wide, Miles looked at him in disbelief. “If that was your idea of groping, I worry for you. Not only that. I feel bad for your sex partners—”

“No need for that,” Alex scoffed, harshly. 

“Good.” That cocky smirk returned to his face. “I’d hate for them to leave unsatisfied ‘cause you don’t know how to grope properly!” 

He was making silly jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Alex understood that and a part of him appreciated him for it, even liked that he did so. Only, he felt undeserving. It didn’t bloody matter what either one believed a proper grope to be like. He’d put his hand on him and no matter how hard Miles might try, he couldn’t talk away Alex’s intent. Once again trying to dismiss him, Alex shook his head. “I—”

Miles groaned soundly, fed up. “Fucking get over it, Alex!”

It knocked. 

“What the fuck is it now?” Alex shot. 

The door opened. His assistant entered first, looking mortified, followed by the lawyer, who pushed past her in an audaciously rude manner. “Turner,” he urged insufferably. “I’m not your side piece. I’m busy. You want to talk shop or not?”

Right now, Alex wanted him to drop dead. “I’m in a meeting.” 

“End it then,” ordered the lawyer, clearly used to people doing as he said. 

He was in for an entirely new experience, then. Alex aimed a markedly polite smile at Miles while crossing his arms. “Just a second, if you don’t mind.” He turned to his assistant, strikingly calm. “Thanks, Janine. You may leave. All’s good.” Then he directed his entire and undivided attention to the lawyer, who’d spread out on the visitor’s chair as though it was his throne and Alex his fool. “Let’s talk shop, then.”

“Perfect.” A winning sneer grew on his face. He reached for his files. “My client revised his numb—”

“Tell him to fuck himself,” clipped Alex deridingly. All of this morning had put him just in the right mood for this and that prick made for a perfect punching bag. “Your client’s company hasn’t accrued interest in five years. The absolute return of his latest investment endeavors is fucking abysmal. He doesn’t have the know-how to look for long-term success and can’t afford short-term deals. His assets have dropped, he borrowed against his securities and if I were you, I’d make a claim on any outstanding bills as soon as possible, lest you want to add yours to the long list of bills that will fill a file once he goes bottom-up. You want to talk shop with me? There’s no shop to talk. Your client doesn’t have anything I want and even the things I could get for free aren’t worth it. But you already know that, don’t you? ‘Cause it was your firm that sent mine the revised numbers which I needed only to skim over to realize that those were fabricated, to put it nicely. I’m this tempted to report you for trying to acquire a deal based on fraudulent data and if you don’t leave my office in the same rushed manner that you entered it, I will not only do that, I will personally inform your boss of your criminal activities.” Alex cocked his head and smirked. “How was that for a talk? Shall I repeat some points or…”

“No need.” The lawyer got up.

“And while you’re at it – leaving, that is – it’d be a nice gesture of respect to apologize to my assistant, who did as I told her and who you so crudely disregarded in entirely too many ways as you barreled your way into my office. You ever do that again, I’ll have security escort you out.”

His eyes softened significantly as he let his sight leisurely wander back to Miles, completely ignoring the other guy. Making a show out of speaking warmly, Alex practically showered Miles with his undivided focus. “You were saying?”

Miles chuckled as the lawyer wordlessly left the office. He rose to his feet, applauded theatrically and threw in a small bow as well. “Bravo! I was about to tell you to grow a pair, but…” A nod rolled from his head and the corners of his mouth lifted, deeply swayed. “What I just saw? Nicely done.”

“Grow a pair?” Alex sighed heavily even though he couldn’t deny he felt flattered by Miles’ perpetual good humor and his unflinching attempts to raise his spirits. It had been a while since he’d met somebody who had made an honest effort to remain in his life, let alone tried to make him feel good. Just as his mood softened, though, Miles completely threw him off guard.

Walking up to him, straight into his personal space, he pinned Alex to his desk with a level of confidence and pluck that was completely staggering. Alex held his breath and didn’t dare to move. 

Miles’ hand reached out, he flattened it to his stomach and splayed his fingers wide. 

Alex’s cock twitched eagerly. Every nerve ending was on fire. Every sense alert. A warning slipped from his suddenly dry lips. “Miles…”

“You work out, too.” There was surprise in his words. 

Alex was beginning to think that Miles was incapable of not flirting. There was this undeniable spark that made the air crackle everywhere he went. Miles knew the kind of effect he had on people and he liked it. He toyed with it. Used it when it suited him and amped it up when the need arose. Alex didn’t like that he used it on him, though. And he liked even less that Miles could play him so well, so effortlessly. 

His hand slid down, an increment only, but there was movement. Friction. Alex inhaled sharply as his tone became cutting. Threatening. “What is this?” 

“Me groping you,” spoke Miles, unperturbed. He pulled his hand away as though he had all the time in the world, all the while sounding not nearly as affected as Alex felt, but to his utter amazement, he didn’t sound unaffected, either.

“There.” Miles’ eyes moved up, from Alex’s stomach, languidly, taking inventory, ‘til they reached his face. “We’re even now.” As if to say, what’s the big deal? “Can we please leave this whole episode behind us now?” He took a step back and sat down in the chair that the lawyer had vacated. 

Alex gave up. Gave up trying to explain it to him, gave up trying to apologize for a crime that Miles didn’t want to understand. He resigned, defeated. “You’re nuts.” 

“Not denying that.” Miles got comfortable, raised one leg and swung it over the other. He undid the button of his suit’s jacket and rested his arms on the sides of the chair. “I’d like to be your friend, Alex.”

“Why?”

“Because I like spending time with you. What kind of question is that? I don’t think I ever needed to explain why I wanted to be somebody’s friend.” The thought of it seemed to humor him and he shook his head with slight laughter. “Tell you what, I actually think that’s one of the reasons I want to be yours. You’re nuts, too. We make quite the pair! Unless you don’t like me, that is. I don’t see how that could be the case, considering I ruined my back helping you move a solid ton of wood all the way across your apartment but, I mean, strange things do happen.”

Screw it, then. If Miles wanted to be his friend despite it all, who was Alex to kick him to the curb? He’d just have to learn to control himself better! How hard could that be, right? After all, there was nothing wrong with lusting after him as long as Alex kept his grabby little fingers to himself. There was something torturously alluring about standing just close enough to the fire to feel its searing heat without standing too close to catch scars. And Alex had always loved teetering on edges! 

He met Miles’ endlessly patient gaze with one of tease. “If you work out half as much as you claim, your back is fine!”

“Feisty. Ouch.” Miles mockingly wiped an invisible tear away. “That hurt.” But he got over his pain, fake that it was, in no time at all. Practically jumping to his feet, Miles curled his arm around Alex’s instantly tense shoulders, led him to the door and out of his office. “Give me a tour. What’s what in this place?”

He was so fucking screwed. Halfway in love already and he’d barely spent three days with him! Why did he have to be this way? Vibrant and full of life and funny and determined and crazy and so goddamn flirty? Each time that Alex made an attempt to slip out of his embrace, Miles squeezed his shoulder only more. As though he was hellbent on proving to Alex that he was more than just fine with the fact that he was gay. Alex began to wish he’d actually be freaked out. That way, there’d be at least a little bit of physical distance between them! 

They walked out of his office and he paused in front of it, bringing Miles to a stop as well. Since he couldn’t shake him, he stood no chance than to give him a tour. “This one,” Alex began to explain, “is Janine. My firm’s intern slash my current assistant.” 

“I’m also single,” she said, winking at Miles. 

“Which you will remain,” declared Alex unequivocally, with much more force than he’d intended to, “given that Miles is married.” And if he weren’t married…well, Alex had spotted him first!

Miles laughed. He leaned in, took Janine’s hand and made a big production of kissing the back of it, drawing a giggle from her. “Enchanté.”

Alex had to roll his eyes so hard that he wound up feeling woozy from it. “Fucking flirt! What would your wife say if she saw you like this?” He dragged him away from his blushing assistant. 

Miles showed no signs of concern or guilt. “She’d probably laugh. I’m just messing around, relax. I don’t have sex with other women! I’m not like that.”

There was something in the way he said that spiked Alex’s interest but he couldn’t decipher what it was. Or maybe he was beginning to hallucinate! He wouldn’t be shocked.

“What’s happening there?” Miles came to rest in front of a large room, filled with rows of desks and people, who all sat behind massive sets of computer screens. 

“Analytics. Bunch of geniuses work in that room. They check numbers, run data and make sure that our projections are bulletproof.” 

“They are the ones doing your work then?”

At long last, it was Alex’s turn to toss a smug grin his way. “Who is doing your work right now?”

“Bunch of geniuses in a room much like that,” he conceded quickly and joined Alex in his laughter. “So this is your firm, then. Imposing. Got a lot of people working for you. And your office isn’t that small,” he added with a wink that threatened to take Alex’s legs out. 

But Alex was done allowing him to mess with his mind. It was time to remind him that he, too, could play this game and not only that – he could win against the best of ‘em! Winking back, adding some bold attitude and mixing it all with just a slice of double entendré, he smirked. “Should see the one I got at home.” 

“Oho!” Miles gave him a look of interest. “Could have shown me last night. Maybe I would have stayed another hour. Or two…”

“See,” began Alex, voice low, leaning in while trying not to sink too deep, “I’m not that kind of guy. I don’t show my office to just anybody. Especially not on the first night. You got to work your way up to that one!” Was it bad that he was enjoying himself so much? With Miles, banter came so easy and he knew all that coquetry was nothing more than a battle of wits and some harmless fun, but he sure loved it. 

Arm neatly tucked around Alex, Miles was on the verge of replying when his phone rang, filling the quiet office floor of Alex’s company with the drumming beat of AC/DC's _Highway To Hell_. “Shit.” He picked up. “Mother. Fifth call in…nope, I haven’t found one yet.” A devious shade of black darkened Miles’ eyes and Alex felt the hairs of his neck stand straight at the sight of it. “Tell you what, he’s here right now. Why don’t you ask him yourself?” With that, Miles thrust his phone into Alex’s hand. “My mother would like a word with you.” 

“Fuck you,” he mouthed, but took the phone and brought it to his ear. “Mrs. Kane. I’ve heard so much about you. My mom has told me only the nicest stories about you.” 

“Tsk, dear, you’re such a nice, young gentleman,” said Pauline Kane. “You know why you and my little Miles were meant to meet, right?”

“To produce grandchildren.” 

“Uh…well, not with each other. Not that it would work. Not that would be a bad thing. I’m a progressive. I’ve given the conservative pastor of my church quite a set-down for talking ill about those lovely lesbians that live next door to me. They bake the best cookies in all of Liverpool! The point is, and remains, that my little Miles was supposed to find you a pretty wife. How are things coming along?”

“Splendidly. I’ve got a casting with ten possible women sat up for this afternoon!” He cocked his hip and pull his brow up for a moment, challenging him to stop him. 

Miles all but lunged for his phone. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Fear was written all over his face. 

Alex held on tight to the phone, taking a quick step out of his reach. “Miles told ‘em to wear bikinis! And he made sure to only pick the prettiest ones!” 

Miles’ glare turned glacial as he gestured with his hand, slicing it across his throat. 

Alex stuck out his tongue. “He told ‘em to be prepared for everything!” 

“That’s it!” He reached for Alex, snatched the phone out of his hand and hung up. “My mother will kill me for that! Your’s will, too!”

“Serves you right. Gave me no warning!” He was dimly aware that they had garnered quite a bit of attention from the other people working there, and so he led Miles back toward his office. He was vastly more conscious of the fact that Miles’ arm was – once again – carelessly curved around his back, something Miles seemed completely unaware of. “She said she had neighbors in Liverpool.” As soon as they reached his office, he used the opportunity to slip out of his hold. “I thought they lived in London?”

“They do, some weeks. I got ‘em this big house on the outskirts of the city. You should see it. It’s amazing. Incredible! Wide lawns, trees, a huge pool, endless windows, a big terrace, plenty of rooms.” He had a dreamy gaze on his face, one that turned rakish when his eyes met Alex’s. “Told ‘em the house was for them, but…most of the time, I stay there.” 

“You don’t like the city?”

“Sometimes. I need room to breathe. To get away from it all.” He put his hand on Alex’s shoulder, jolting all of Alex’s nerve endings into overdrive. “Let’s go there this weekend!” 

“What?” Alex was torn between Miles’ touch and his completely crazy idea. Had he lost it? Spend the weekend together? Alex could barely keep it together for a few hours. If he was forced to endure an entire weekend with him, he might end up doing some real, not-meant-for-witnesses kind of groping! “I don’t know.” Shit, how to talk himself out of this one? “Like, we’re barely friends!” 

“Nothing like a weekend away to change that! It’s an hour by car. If I get too annoying, you can always go home.” He seemed utterly excited by the prospect of it all. “You got a bunch of guest rooms to choose from and the pool is fucking worth it. Especially in this heat.”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?” Miles sat back down on the chair. Seriously, did he ever work, wondered Alex. “It’ll be fun. We’ll grill some steaks, listen to music. Got some guitars stashed there!” 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. He wanted to go too much! Which was not a good starting point! “Wait, what about your wife? Shouldn’t you stay with her? If she’s there, too, I’d be the third wheel and—”

“She’s in Paris, a shopping trip with her friends. I’ll be bored and lonely if you don’t come along! Come on, Alex. You know you want to!” 

Eyes closed, biting his tongue, Alex groaned. Why couldn’t he say no to him? “Fine.” 

“Perfect!” Miles was beaming sunnily at him. “I’ll leave Friday afternoon. Can you join me or should I send you a car for Saturday?”

For a moment, he’d feared he’d offer a helicopter ride or something. “Friday’s fine. I can drive, too. Or, drive, myself. No need for your driver to pick me up as well.”

“He’d probably love a free weekend, too,” mused Miles. “If you don’t mind driving, pick me up at four, then. I’ll text you my address.” Miles got back up and gave Alex the fiercest, fastest one-armed side hug. “Got to run!”

“Are you telling me you actually have to work for once?” Alex tsk-ed. “Poor you.” 

“I do work,” Miles pointed out with conviction, with just a hint of mocked offense. “Every now and then. Besides, if the departments are working well and flawlessly, and don’t need my constant supervision, I must have done a good job selecting my employees, right?” 

Alex’s brows rose, unconvinced. 

“I should have been back at the office an hour ago,” he admitted, slyly, before laughing. “My phone’s been vibrating the whole time I’m here! I’m so bloody busy this morning, it’s not even funny. Seriously, I have to run. We’ll talk later. See you soon, Alex” With that, he was gone.

Unbelievable. For the last hour, Miles had hung out, he’d waited, he’d joked around, he’d gone above and beyond to make Alex feel better about last night. He’d shown interest in his company, he’d allowed him to mess with his mother and he’d done it all with so much humor and in such a calm and relaxed manner that Alex was truly, genuinely shocked to find out that he’d ignored his own company for the whole time. Miles had made Alex his priority. 

And to top it all off, he’d invited him to stay the weekend with him. 

Alex dropped into his chair behind the desk, leaned back and closed his eyes. He’d never been somebody’s priority. He’d never allowed himself to become somebody’s priority. He preferred relationships that never went anywhere. Or, at least, remained at a low and paced level. There, they weren’t dangerous. Nothing messy ever came from that. 

But with Miles, he stood no chance to control things. Miles was a tank, a bloody force of nature. He’d ambushed his way into his life and he’d done it so fast that Alex only slowly understood how easy he’d made it for him. He should have had his guards up. He should have never invited him over after their first evening out. He shouldn’t have asked him to stay for their second evening. He most certainly shouldn’t have agreed to go away with him this weekend! But, more than anything, he fucking liked being in his presence and that he should have never ever have allowed to let happen. 

‘Cause here he was, well on his way to be in love with a married man. 

“Fucking great,” he mumbled, groaned and slowly drifted off into a much-needed nap.

Janine pushed the door wide open. “Good, he's gone. Time to get back to the schedule…”

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 5: **

#

“Why are you wearing a shirt?” Alex raised his brows, eying him warily. “You're disgustingly sweaty!”

_'Cause I got a steel rod hiding in my trunks_ , he was tempted to retort. “Sensitive skin.”

A snort from Alex.

#

“When did you know?” asked Alex.

“That I’m gay?”

Alex’s eyes flew open wide.

Miles cursed inwardly. “’Cause I’m not,” he added fast, as coolly as he could, doing his best to laugh it off. “I’m married.”

“I know,” Alex said, an amused yet, at the same time, quizzical look on his face. He was paying more attention to him, now. “I meant, when did you know your wife was the one for you. Why’d you think I’d ask that?”

#


	5. Starry Night

Chapter 5 

What kind of fucked up, shortsighted, ill-advised, foolish, moronic, simple-minded idea had it been to invite Alex Fucking Turner to spend the bloody weekend with him, huh? Miles pondered that spectacular act of idiocy as he blew out a deep and frustrated breath. One hand clung to the sliding glass door that led out to the patio, doing it partly to support his weight and partly to restraint himself from running full-steam ahead into madness. There, a couple of feet away, lounging in the sun as though it was the most normal thing in the world, was he of the golden skin, he of the perfect abs, he of the tight midnight blue swim trunks and he of the most impressively shaped ass that Miles had ever laid eyes on.

It was five thousand degrees Celsius out in the sun and Miles would love nothing more than to relax next to him – on his own lounger, naturally – wearing only swim trunks as well. But no. Miles was in no shape or form to hide his insolent hard-on, which tented his trunks in such an unmistakable way that he was forced to wear a button-down shirt – buttoned – to not draw attention to it.

He exhaled again, then made his way out. “Here's your beer.”

“Thanks.” Alex reached for the beer with one hand and for his sunglasses with the other one, tipping them away from his eyes to squint at him. “Could have grabbed it myself, though.” A content smile rested on his face as he said it and he made no move to exit his comfortable position. “You've been running in and out just to fetch shit for me. I have legs. But, hey, don’t get me wrong – if you like it, keep at it!”

And any other day, Miles would tell him to bloody grab his own beer, but in his current state of arousal, he was grateful for every last chance to slip away and adjust himself. So, he waved a hand as he sat down. “Happy to do it.” At the very least, he’d walk away from this weekend with a reputation as the perfect host.

“I had my doubts, you know? Coming here with you?” Alex leaned back, pressed the foot of the cold beer bottle against his forehead and grinned. “But this is so much better than being stuck in the city right now! This place is fucking incredible. Money well spent!”

At that, Miles laughed. “Told ya!”

“Maybe I should get my own getaway for the summer. Something with a pool.”

“The pool is really doing it for you, isn't it?”

“Hell yes!” He brought the beer to his lips and the condensed water that coated the glass dripped in small drops to his chest.

Miles felt like a fucking predator as he laid there, watching the droplets slowly pooling in the hollow below his throat. God, he’d love to let his tongue dip into it, get a taste of it, tease and—

“Why are you wearing a shirt?” Alex raised his brows, eying him warily. “You're disgustingly sweaty!”

'Cause I got a steel rod hiding in my trunks, he was tempted to retort. “Sensitive skin,” muttered Miles. 

A snort from Alex.

“What?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry.” It sounded dismissive at best and disbelieving at worst. Before long, Alex was laughing hard. “Thought you were trying to hide your boner.”

A gravelly groan rumbled from Miles' throat. He was fairly certain he was blushing, too. “Shit…”

“Don't sweat it. I don't blame you. Your wife's been out of town for what, like, a week or more now? The heat? The sexual frustration. I feel for you, man! Should we get you a blow-up doll or something?” The laughter returned and became roaring. “For stress relief?” 

Miles tossed a towel at him. “Dick!”

They had arrived yesterday, and before that, they'd spoken on the phone a few times. They talked a lot, Miles realized. And even though they had met barely two weeks ago, they'd quickly fallen into this fast-paced friendship of theirs. He'd never been uncomfortable around him, yet, with each meeting he eased and opened up more and more. He found himself strangely eager to share stories with him, to let him in on the lesser-known facts of his life. He'd told him about his mother's constant quest for grandchildren and how his wife began to feel sorry for not wanting to have any. He'd admitted to his life's regrets, to the lingering inclination to toss it all and begin again, just for the fun of it. He'd been considering for a while now to let Alex in on his biggest secret, his phony marriage and his ever-growing desire for him.

But if he did that, it'd be too easy for them to act on it. If Alex cared to act on it, that was. But Miles was starting to think he might. Every now and then, he'd catch a drawn-out look or spot him dragging his teeth along his lip in that certain way that always left Miles desperate to do the dragging for him.

As long as Alex was under the impression that Miles was, indeed, straight and married, they had that safety net between them. If that vanished, no good would follow.

Alex tossed the towel back at him, grinning. “Take a cold shower. That might help!” 

“Or you could roll over,” quipped Miles, fully aware of what he was saying. But that cocky bastard was having the time of his life making fun of him and Miles was ready to take a swing of his own.

“Ohoho!” Alex was staring at him, wide-eyed and clearly impressed. “Baby, I don't roll over!” The words were soaking smug. A wink.

“Too bad!” Miles pretended to catch it, then stuffed it into his pocket. “Keeping that one for later!”

It was a dangerous game they were playing, but he enjoyed it too fucking much to put an end to it. Shrugging his embarrassment off, he stood up, stripped out of his shirt with renewed confidence, and jumped into the pool. Underneath the water, he stretched to his full length, took a deep dive along the floor of it, reveled as the cold water cooled down his feverish skin and once he reemerged, gasping for air and wiping the water from his face, his glance fleetingly and discreetly drifted across Alex. Much like a breeze would.

He definitely paid attention.

Miles dove under again, masking his smirk.

-

“Shit! You said you liked cooking, but this is something else!” Alex emptied the last bit of his water bottle as he hopped onto the kitchen counter next to where Miles was slicing up the onions. “That’s a whole fucking menu!” His face dimpled impishly. “Marry me.”

“Already am married,” Miles said flippantly, with a smile.

“Shame.”

He'd never seen a look more loaded than the one Alex carried just then. And he was tempted to take in more of it, tempted to decode every last cipher it contained, but he got sidetracked by the plain white shirt that he was wearing, the very one he’d worn once before. It made his skin glow in dark golden tones, kissed by the sun. His hair was unkempt, and it looked velvety and full, different than the gelled, combed-back style he wore with suits while working. If he drove his fingers through it, would it be soft and silky? If he fisted it, grabbed it, pulled on it, would he like that? Would he arch into him? Would he moan? Would he—

“Ow!” He looked at his finger and saw the blood seeping into the onion.

“Fuck!” Alex jumped off the counter and grabbed a towel. “Here.” He pressed it to his hand. “Keep it there. Got any band-aids?”

“Drawer by the sink.”

Alex went there.

Miles closed his eyes and shook his head in disgust. When had he become such a horny, sex-obsessed dimwit? His finger hurt. “Ow.”

“Serves you right.” Alex moved the dishtowel away, took hold of his hand and inspected the damage. “That's what happens when you don't pay attention. Did your mother never tell you not to fuck around with knives?” The corners of his lips were drawn up, forever carrying that slight grin that seemed unfaltering. But there were flakes of concern in his eyes as well. Concern for him. Miles was unable to rip his gaze away from him. Alex's fingers, warm and agile as they were, placed a band-aid around his fingertip with meticulous care and when it was done, the smirk turned wide as his eyes glinted rakishly. He brought Miles' injured hand to his face and blew softly onto it.

“There,” he said, close to a whisper. “Better now?”

“Much better,” said Miles, not a scratch of humor in his tone.

“You're welcome.” Alex winked again, caught it with his free hand and chuckled as he acted as though he dropped the wink into Miles'. “'nother one for your collection.” Then he let go, hopped back up the counter and carried on as if nothing had happened.

Miles stared at his hand and would have sworn if asked that he'd felt the wink there. Resting. Against his palm. Sending tingles from there on to every last nerve ending of his body. Quirking his lips, he brought the hand to his pocket. “Thanks. Should probably get a jaw or something, to collect 'em in.”

“Plan on catching more, huh?”

“You bet.”

What a weird conversation this was, about invisible winks and collecting them. But it might be one of the best ones he'd ever had. Smile firmly plastered on his face, Miles resumed his cooking. He trashed the bloody onion, grabbed a new one and tried over.

“Maybe I should do it,” remarked Alex, bemused. “You only have so many fingers left.”

“Think you can do it better?”

“Yes.”

“Humble.”

“Me?” A chuckle. “Never.” He jumped off the counter once more, bumped his hip against Miles' to nudge him away. “Move over. Let me show you how it’s done.”

For the next half hour, they proceeded to cut vegetables, cook and fry and do all sorts of things, all the while remaining at an impossibly close proximity to each other. Arms brushed, hips bumped, smiles were exchanged, and laughter filled the air. And in between, Miles did his best to catch another wink.

“You gotta try harder for the next one,” Alex let him know, aware of his intent.

Miles eagerly accepted the challenge.

-

Alex laid on one side of the large L-shaped couch in the living room, facing Miles, who laid on the other one. Both were on their stomachs, arms crossed beneath their heads. It was deep into the night. The wide patio doors were open and the soft chirping sounds of nature filled the warm but wonderful air. The moon, full and round, hung high in the sky as the stars were standing guard, side by side. Aside from a few distant garden lamps, no lights were on. Miles felt completely content as he enjoyed the quietness. He was tired, much so, however, he felt no desire to go to sleep. It was the kind of night you didn’t want to give up on. The kind that seemed magical and full of meaning, even though you couldn’t explain why. 

Maybe it wasn’t the night. Maybe it was the company. His gaze moved away from the patio and landed on Alex. “When did you know? That you were gay?” This late into the night, his voice wasn’t as loud and clear as it was during the day. It was raspy, half-asleep itself. “If you don’t mind telling me,” he added, still figuring out what was okay to ask and what was off-limits.

A vague smile drifted across Alex’s lips and he shook his head so gently that Miles was grateful he was paying this much attention, or else he might have missed it. 

“Don’t really know for sure.” His voice was low. He sounded sleepy as well and Miles had suggested they go to bed, but Alex, too, had wanted to enjoy a little more of the night. “Somewhere down the road. I had girlfriends. But there was always that feeling as though something was missing. You know? Like, it was good, but…it fell short of the mark of really good. And I had no idea what that kind of good even looked like. One day I was out and I was drunk and I found myself drawn to this guy. I really didn’t think much it. Just hung out with him. We chatted. Had a few more drinks. Then he kissed me. It clicked. After that, I knew for certain. But I might have known before.”

“You weren’t…” Miles pondered how to phrase it, but Alex was quick to read his mind.

“Freaked out?” The idea appeared to amuse him. “No. Why? It’s not in me to, like, get hung up on something like that. I mean…” His sight dropped to the fabric of the couch he rested on and his fingertip traced idle patterns there. “I can get stuck on things. Sometimes, I waste way too much time worrying and thinking stuff over. But once I know something for sure, I accept it and make do with it.”

Miles wished he’d be more like that. “I tend to take things too personally. Which kind of sucks in the corporate world, ‘cause nobody ever means anything they say.” He’d been quick to suggest marriage to Lena because it meant having nobody whisper about his private life. He didn’t mind being gay. There was very little he could do about it at any rate. But that was something personal and nobody else’s entertainment. He’d like to be able to face the world as the man that he was and not hide behind the image of the man he pretended to be.

“When did you know?” asked Alex.

“That I’m gay?”

Alex’s eyes flew open wide.

Miles cursed inwardly. “’Cause I’m not,” he added fast, as coolly as he could, doing his best to laugh it off. “I’m married.”

“I know,” Alex said, a funny yet, at the same time, quizzical look on his face. He was paying more attention to him, now. “I meant, when did you know your wife was the one for you. Why’d you think I’d ask that?”

“It’s late,” mumbled Miles, deeply shaken by his slip of tongue. “I’m a little drunk, I’m afraid. My mind is scrambled.”

“Must be the heat,” suggested Alex.

“Yes, definitely.” He brought the topic back to Lena, to move past that dangerous lapse. “I saw her. We worked together. It’s like she could read my mind. She knew what I wanted before I even knew it, myself. A lot of the success stems from her contributions.” None of that was a lie. They were genuine friends. He didn’t like talking about her as his wife, though. He could gush about her qualifications and her brains and her ideas and her professionalism all day. He could list reason after reason why he appreciated her friendship. But he had the toughest time selling the story of their love for each other. He’d say she was hot and sexy, which she undisputedly was, but that wasn’t enough reason to get married. How to explain a love that didn’t exist? How to clarify an attraction he didn’t feel?

If he had to describe Alex to anybody, he’d mention his fine body, his almost illuminating skin, his endlessly deep eyes in which he so easily got lost in. He’d mention his little quirk of fidgeting with items whenever he was deciding which word to use when trying to be as concise as possible. He’d watched him play the guitar yesterday when they had wasted hour after hour just strumming nonsense on the strings. There was a certain way in which he curved his wrist while moving the pick up and down and he’d found it fascinating to no end. It was such a random thing to notice, but he had noticed. And he couldn’t report any such random habits of his wife when asked about her. One day, he feared, it’d be that lack of detail that would lead to their secret being exposed.

Glancing at Alex, finding his tranquil eyes still fixated on him, Miles tried to act like the sort of man who simply wasn’t good at telling details. “I don’t know. I just knew.”

Alex nodded vaguely. “What does it feel like, to make the choice to dedicate your life to one person?”

Miles would really like to know, too. He couldn’t imagine that kind of feeling. That kind of commitment. But he remembered his mother’s words when she’d told him the story of how his dad had proposed to her. “Easy. When the right one comes along, you don’t hesitate or worry or deliberate. You just know.” He observed Alex as he listened to his words. “You look disappointed.”

“No,” said Alex quickly. “God, no!” He shook his head. “I’ve heard it before. People saying that you just know somehow. My parents say the same. Guess I’m looking for a better answer. I’m just not sure there is one.”

“Are you worried you won’t know when the moment arrives?”

“I’ve been doing my job for a few years now and every decision I make, every information I get, every offer and every tip, I always have to second-guess. There’s always a reason why people want me to know something. Which means I spend all my day asking myself, why this and why that. I’m not sure I’m made for, I suppose, accepting something without being able to explain it.”

“Maybe it’s a bit like finding out you’re gay,” mused Miles. “One moment it’s just a guy that’s talking to you and then, the next moment, it’s a whole sexual orientation.”

At that, Alex laughed. He rolled onto his back, gazed at the ceiling and nodded. “You’re probably right.” He kept his eyes at the ceiling as he crossed his arms beneath his head. “You should paint it. The ceiling. A fresco or something.”

It was Miles’ turn to laugh. “Like, The Creation of Men?”

“Or Starry Night. That would look awesome!”

“The swirly one?” He smiled as he recalled that painting. Miles stretched as he sat up. He told himself he was only doing that because remaining on his stomach was becoming uncomfortable and not because, sitting up, he had a better view of Alex’s exposed skin below the hem of his shirt and above his jeans. He pretended he wasn’t enraptured by that fine almost invisible trail of hairs that led down from his navel towards an area that was decidedly carnal in its nature.

“Miles?”

“Hm?”

“Why aren’t you wearing a wedding band?”

Miles looked down, to his hand, to the spot where one ought to find said ring. It was in a small wooden box back in the center of London. In a drawer in his home office, to be precise. He only wore it when he was out with her and when there was a chance that people would ask about their marriage and would take note if he wasn’t wearing it.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“There’s no greater meaning behind it,” he lied, feeling worse with each one he told him. He actually cared about this budding friendship of theirs and lying to him was awful and all sorts of wrong. “Left it at home. Don’t know why. For what it’s worth, Lena doesn’t always wear her ring, either. We know where we stand without it.”

“Okay.”

He’d love to ask him whether or not he believed him, for it didn’t sound like it. If anything, it sounded as though he was hesitant about pushing him for a better answer. But there was no better answer. There might be a more convincing lie somewhere, but the only real answer was that he hated wearing that band because it was a constant reminder of the lie he lived.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Alex quickly got off the couch, stretching his arms up high, exposing even more of that fine stomach of his that Miles desperately wanted to lick. Admonishing his own filthy mind, he got up as well. “Bedtime?”

“Going for a last dip in the pool. To cool down. You?”

“Sounds good.” As he tried to recall where he’d put his trunks, Alex had stripped down to his briefs already, heading for the outside. “You’re going in like that?”

“Afraid I’ll offend anyone? There’s nobody else here.”

“Yeah! Don’t worry about offending me!” Laughing, Miles stripped down as well. His briefs were black, something he was actually grateful for. Alex’s were white. As he heard the splash of water, a smirk crossed his face. Oh, he was definitely grateful for that as well. He quickly headed out.

“It barely cooled down,” announced Alex from the center of the pool.

Miles jumped off the edge and dove in. When he came up, wiping the water from his face, he swam towards him. “Still feels good! I’ll give it a week!”

“Give what a week?”

“Your self-control. You totally fell for the pool and you fell hard! I bet you’ll have a place with one rented by the end of it!”

“There’s no need for that,” declared Alex, playfully shoving Miles’ shoulder. “I thought about it earlier. But, I got you now. You’re my pool guy!”

“Am I?” asked Miles, returning the favor and splashing water at Alex. “Whenever you need it, you just give me a call and come by?”

“If this heat continues, I’ll be giving you plenty of calls!”

“Ooh, are you now?” He swam up to him again, emerged from the water and jumped up Alex’s back. Alex was laughing loudly as he tried tossing him off. “What if I want something in return for my pool?”

“Do you?” Alex twisted, turned, dove and whirled, but Miles held firm. One arm was curled around his shoulders, the other grabbed his arm. They were both succumbing to laughter. “Let go,” demanded Alex.

“Nope!”

“Miles!”

“Say please!”

Alex sank below the water. Miles held on, dove under with him and both refused to give in. His lungs began to burn and he was tempted to ease up and surrender, but in a sudden turn of events, it felt as though Alex no longer cared for that. Both broke through the surface, gasping for air. Miles had somehow wound up in front of him. His arms were curled loosely around Alex’s neck while the latter had his hands placed against Miles’ ribs.

The sun might as well have been at full capacity, for it felt as though a searing blaze of fire raged around them. Miles had made the mistake of looking into Alex’s eyes and now he was trapped there, lost in the darkness. He should feel warned. Scared. Concerned. But he felt nothing but magnetism. A force field too intense to wrestle free from. He felt subdued by a staggering desire to run headfirst into a cautionary tale, knowing full well that the ending would be written in blood and framed with regret.

But before Miles could make the mistake of a lifetime, Alex twisted away. “Seriously,” he muttered, “this heat…it’s insane!” He swam to the edge, without looking back. “I need to get out of it!”

“Yes.” No doubt about that. Miles watched as Alex made his way out without looking back. Much like a magic spell that was broken, Alex’s eyes were no longer inviting. They weren’t even meeting his own. “You alright?” What a dumb thing to ask and the faint snort that he heard coming from Alex let him know that he thought so, too.

Alex lingered by the lounger, dapping himself dry. “Just tired.”

There he was, standing in the spotlight of the full moon, slowly turning around to face him, wearing nothing but clinging white wet briefs that had doubtlessly turned sheer by the water and Miles couldn’t find it in him to look. He dove under once more, then emerged, facing a different direction. This wasn’t the night to sneak that peek. This wasn’t the right time to head for the dividing line and consider crossing it. There was no good awaiting them on the other side. “You go, then. I’ll stay for a few more moments.”

Hesitation weighed the air between them down. “Sure?” asked Alex, uncertain.

“See you in the morning,” assured Miles.

“Alright. Have a good night.” Alex headed inside.

Miles’ eyes fell shut and he groaned into his hands, only to dive under yet again. What a fucked up, short-sighted, ill-advised idea indeed!

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 6**

#

Alex felt like vermin. Like the vilest of creatures. Dirt on the bottom of a shit-stained boot. “Fuck!”

“Yeah,” said Miles hollowly, “don’t let me keep you from that.”

#

“Why do people lie, Miles?” Alex tossed the words into the great unknown. “‘Cause they don’t want others to know something. I didn’t want to go out with you.” 

At that, at last, Miles did face him. His big and round eyes that could be lively and kind were perplexed. Like a massive frame that stole the attention away from a delicate painting, rimming the edges was the confirmation that Miles felt painfully insulted. 

Alex groaned hard. “That came out so wrong!”

#


	6. Date Night

He was screwed.

Royally so.

Sitting by the bar, getting drunker by the minute, Alex kept glancing over his shoulder, waiting for him to show up. He’d called him about an hour ago, surprised to find him even picking up the phone considering how awful things had ended last time they’d met. But he’d picked up nonetheless. And when Alex had suggested a meeting, he’d done what he usually did, which was jumping at the opportunity.

It was fucking ridiculous. He’d treated him unfairly and rudely and in the most selfish way imaginable, yet here he was, running at the first chance he got. It wouldn’t be any different once he’d be done with him this time, Alex knew. He’d be just as self-centered and just as dismissive again. And if that guy had any sort of backbone, he’d bloody deck Alex for his fucked up behavior. But he didn’t.

Sliding the empty glass back on the bar, toward the bartender, Alex met his disapproving eyes with a roll of his own ones. “More. And keep the judgment, this time.”

“Depressed drunks don’t make for a good atmosphere,” the bartender told him. His name was Phil, he was in his late fifties and he’d been serving Alex his drinks for a few years now, thereby owning the right to be merciless and unforgiving whenever Alex acted like a dick. Which he regularly did when he was here since he only ever came here when he was in a dick-mood.

“They make for good business, though.” He pulled out a big buck and placed it underneath the empty glass. “Happy?”

“No.” He took the money and refilled. “Been a while since I saw you.”

“Yep.”

“You’re your usual chatty and charming self, tonight, then?”

A glare flew the bartender’s way. “Just want to get drunk in peace.” Another glance toward the door. “With any luck, I’ll be gone, soon.”

“Expecting a friend?”

“No. A person.”

One who was late. He usually was and he hated that about him. There was very little that he didn’t hate, or rather, not liked about him. The one thing he appreciated him for was his loyal availability and his quality to keep things to himself.

“Bad day, huh?”

A grunt roared from Alex’s throat. “What’s with the 21 questions tonight?”

“Humor me,” suggested the bartender dryly.

Did he have a bad day? No. Rather, a bad week. It had been that since he’d gotten back from the strangest weekend of his life. Last week, at Miles’ parents’ little getaway slash fucking huge estate, he’d had more fun than he’d had in a damn long time. It still did him in how incredible he and Miles got along. They had an insane amount of things in common. They understood each other, they clicked, they just worked so damn well as friends.

If only he could bloody remember that they were that and nothing more. But every time he eased up and allowed himself to slip into a really comfortable camaraderie with him, his attention for boundaries drifted away and he began messing up. He’d done it the other night when Miles had dropped by and Alex had all but fondled his stomach. And he’d done it again last weekend, late at night, in the pool, when they’d joked around and he’d ended up holding onto his waist while gazing deeply into his eyes.

Holding onto his waist! For fuck’s sake, what platonic friend did that? He was angry and annoyed at himself for being so bloody stupid and reckless around him. But not only that, he was pissed off at Miles as well. The guy was fucking married. Miles ought to punch him for the moves Alex made on him! But for some fucked up reason, he seemed to be completely, unfathomably okay with it. Worse, he even appeared to enjoy it! So much so, that Alex found himself wondering if Miles didn’t, maybe, have some lingering inclinations towards him. What if he was one of those bi-curious straight men that always looked for new adventures? What if his marriage was failing? Although, it didn’t make sense. Miles kept gushing about his wife. What if they had an open marriage?

That was ridiculous, too.

He’d told him once that he wasn’t the type of man to have sex with other women.

Then again, Alex wasn’t a woman!

He was a man.

And a bloody confused one at that!

His phone chimed. Another text from Miles.

_‘Sure you don’t want to meet for drinks tonight? Going out with some friends. Great people. It’ll be fun!’_

“No,” muttered Alex, only to realize that he had to type the reply in order for him to get it. So he did that.

_‘No. Busy.’_

He’d been avoiding him for a week now. A few texts here and there. Nothing personal. Miles had called once, but Alex had told him he was having an extremely busy week. Which wasn’t a complete lie, but also not very true. If he’d wanted to, he could have easily made time for him.

Another text from Miles.

_‘It’s Saturday night! Work can wait!’_

_‘It can’t,’_ Alex texted back. _‘Stuck at the office. Maybe next week.’_ Then he turned his phone off.

“Boyfriend?” asked the bartender.

A snort from Alex. “Didn’t I tell you once? I don’t do boyfriends.” He did affairs. He did men. He fucked. And the only reason the bartender knew about his preference for men was the fact that Alex tended to meet his liaisons at this bar, which was a bit of a hidden gem amongst London’s nightlife and far from being frequented by suit-wearing jocks.

“Here you are!” A pair of hands crept up on his shoulders and Alex flinched. He knew whose hands it were, though.

“Don’t, I told you.” Turning around to face him, he struggled with himself to offer a friendly and welcoming expression, but it was a futile effort. Kindness, next to any other pleasantries, were not on the menu tonight. “You’re late, Mark.”

“I live across the city. Takes me some time to get here. Could have come to my place directly, unless you plan on actually inviting me to your place. Are you?”

Don’t be dumb, Alex was tempted to retort. But bit his tongue. “Didn’t clean up. Yours will have to make do.” He preferred doing his deeds elsewhere, which gave him the opportunity to leave whenever he wanted to. It was always such a fuss to make people leave his place, and lately, he felt no desire to invest that much energy into his nightly entertainment.

Mark let his hand glide up Alex’s thigh, a move that leaked possessiveness, and it made the hairs on Alex’s neck stand up, so much so, that he was on the verge to telling him to get lost, but it had been a few weeks since he’d gotten any and he hoped strongly that some good old-fashioned fucking would help him face Miles with less sexual frustration. Placing another bill onto the bar, he got up. “Let’s go.”

“Seriously? You make me haul my ass across the city to meet you here, only to drag me back to my place the second I arrive? Let’s stay for a drink at least!”

There was so much he could say right now. He could give him a lecture in self-respect, or explain to him that he’d known exactly what he was getting into the moment he’d agreed to meet with him. He could tell him to grow a pair and hang up, better yet, not pick up next time Alex called. He could tell him to fucking do as Alex wanted him to do and get that orgasm that he should know by now was waiting for him at the end of it.

But none of that made it out of Alex’s mouth because Mark decided to use Alex’s half-drunk state and lay one on him before he could stop him. The kiss felt stale and passionless. His tongue was a foreign object more than anything else. And his hands were flabby as they held onto his body. It was a miserable meal that you ate because you were starving but not because it tasted good.

When it was done, and Mark let up, Alex gave a bleak smile and spun him around, toward the door. A few guests were arriving and they waited, to let them pass. Mark used the opportunity to snake his arm around Alex’s neck and he’d have told him to fuck off and retreat his arm unless he wanted to lose it but in that very moment, the last member of the group of guests made his way through the door and Alex froze completely.

As did the guest. He’d worn a grin when he’d stepped in and it was still here, lingering on his face, but it was empty now. Void of meaning. If only his eyes were that as well. But they were spilling over with equal parts hurt and anger. “Stuck at the office, huh?”

Alex felt like vermin. Like the vilest of creatures. Dirt on the bottom of a shit-stained boot. “Fuck!”

“Yeah,” said Miles hollowly, “don’t let me keep you from that.”

Mark, whom Alex had completely forgotten about until now, and whose eyes volleyed back and forth between them, extended his hand to Miles. “Hi, I’m Mark. Alex’s date.”

“A blonde.” The biting and dry observation sprung from his lips much like fine wine revealed its true taste to only the real connoisseurs. Mark would never know the gravity of this moment while Alex felt crushed by it. “Finally something to work with, then.” Miles was impressive in the way he stood there, smug and sassy, clearly mad but not the least bit frazzled. Observing in awe as he let his gaze wander across Mark’s body, seizing him up and judging him to be no danger whatsoever, Alex was transfixed. _A danger to what_ , asked a small voice in the back of his head. “I’ll be sending over some matches for you as soon as possible. I’m sure there are plenty of blondes who’d love to go out with you.”

“Who’d love to…” Mark tossed him a sharp glare. “Excuse me? As I said, I’m his date. Who are you?”

“Distinctly underwhelmed.” Thoroughly dismissed by two flippant words.

Not only did he feel like vermin, Alex also felt turned on. Rolling his eyes as the most exhausted smile flew over his face, only to vanish into the great nothingness that it had escaped from, he plucked Mark’s arm away from his neck and brought some distance between them. There was no way he’d get it up for him tonight. Not when he was hung up on Miles and his brazen display of confidence. This was the type of man he wanted. Somebody who could hold his own. Somebody that didn’t comply and submit and roll over. He wanted feistiness. He wanted naughtiness. He wanted somebody who was worth the effort. Alex would bet his bike, his guitars, and all of his money that fucking Miles would be the kind of sweaty, dirty, wild ride that phenomenal sex was meant to be! Damnit, he wanted him! “Good night, Mark.”

“Don’t say it on my account,” Miles quickly interfered, wearing a smirk so subtle that Alex wondered if it was there for only him to see. “I’m off now. My friends are waiting.” The manner in which he pronounced friends made it obvious that he didn’t count Alex amongst them. “Enjoy your night.”

“Whatever,” snarled Mark. “Fuck off, dude.” He then whirled around toward Alex. “You called me!”

“And now I changed my mind. Good night.” He booted him with a pointed look.

Mark huffed affronted. “Don’t call again!”

Alex could point out that he’d been told that before, on more than one occasion, but he was done with him. His attention remained on Miles. “Can we talk?”

“No.” With that, Miles walked back to his group of friends.

Alex leaned against the hood of Miles’ sleek, black Audi and pulled the cigarette from his lips. Arms crossed, as far as smoking allowed that, he tilted his head to the side, to the driver’s door, which stood wide open and which revealed the figure of Miles’ driver, Hank, a large guy in his late sixties, who, as Alex had found out, loved driving the car more than he liked doing his job of driving around a person. He didn’t blame him. “It’s that fast, huh?”

“I’ve taken this baby for a ride a time or two. But my wife doesn’t appreciate it. Worries easily.” A chuckle filled the dark and quiet night. “She doesn’t have to know, though!”

“Your secret is safe with me,” assured Alex, tossing him a fierce grin. “Mine’s a little faster.”

“Audi?” asked the driver.

Alex grinned wider. “Aston Martin.”

“Nice cars, those.”

He could only nod as he brought the cigarette back to his lips.

“I really shouldn’t be surprised to find you here.”

Alex raised his gaze, let it land on Miles’ face, and shrugged. Miles should be, to be honest. Alex wasn’t the type of person to wait around, least of all to explain himself. He guessed it was one more piece of evidence hinting at Miles’ irregular role in his life. “Gotta be honest, I didn’t think you’d call it a night so soon.”

“What can I say.” Miles reached into his pocket and grabbed his cigarettes as well. Lit himself one. “Mood ruined and all that. You understand, right?”

He wasn’t meeting Alex’s eyes, which bothered him for it made it that much harder to read him. To change that, he pushed himself away from the car and took a stride forward, hoping it’d make him look up. Instead, Miles faced an entirely different direction.

A defeated sigh made it past Alex’s lips. He flipped the dead butt away. “Tell you what, Hank, why don’t you take the car home and call it quits for the day? We’ll walk.”

Hank, wise man that he was, had the good sense to seek his boss’ approval first. Miles nodded faintly, which Alex considered a good sign. Not waiting for him to fall in step, however, Miles headed toward his apartment’s direction and it was on Alex to catch up.

“Well, I’m sorry,” stated Alex after a few steps, oddly bemused that he had to say what was no doubt the most obvious thing in the world. Nonetheless, he wasn’t sorry for all that had happened. “For lying to you. I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong.”

“Why did you do it, then?”

“Why do people lie, Miles?” Alex tossed the words into the great unknown. “‘Cause they don’t want others to know something. I didn’t want to go out with you.”

At that, at last, Miles did face him. His big and round eyes that could be lively and kind were perplexed. Like a massive frame that stole the attention away from a delicate painting, rimming the edges was the confirmation that he felt painfully insulted.

Alex groaned hard. “That came out so wrong!”

“Did it?” Miles was doubtful.

“I’m drunk,” stretched Alex. “In case you haven’t noticed. Cut me some slack.”

“I should be happy that you are. Appears it’s making you honest.”

“It’s making me speak without weighing my words first, which is not a good thing!” It was dangerous, truly! “It’s not that I didn’t want to go out with you. I did. Sorta.” He was stumbling, tripping over the loose threads in his head, and it bothered him. “It’s complicated, Miles!”

“Simplify it.”

“Let me repeat myself,” he deadpanned. “I’m drunk.”

“I don’t care,” snapped Miles, coming to a halt. “You avoided me all week, didn’t you? Not just that. You barely looked at me last Sunday. I thought we were having a good time last Saturday! A few hours later, you hardly spoke to me anymore! The whole ride home, you had your headphones on. I don’t get it.”

“Don’t you?” Alex stared at him, struggling to figure out if Miles was fundamentally ignoring what was going on between them or if he genuinely did not see it. “Really, Miles, you don’t get it?” He stepped closer, killed more of the distance between them. As he did, though, Miles ripped his gaze away, almost stubbornly so. It was all the answer Alex needed. “You do! You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Defiantly shaking his head, Miles bit back, “I don’t care that you’re gay!”

“That’s the problem!”

“What the—”

“I want you to remember it,” he hissed. “It does things to me when you look at me in certain ways, okay? I don’t know if you’re doing it to prove to me that you’re cool with it all or if it’s just who you are. I mean, some people are like that!” He was sliding into a rage and he didn’t want that, so he spun around and took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts and sorting them as much as he could.

“Like what?” asked Miles, impatient.

“You flirt with me,” lamented Alex. “I hardly know you. I don’t know if you act like that around everybody. Maybe you do. Maybe you’re not even doing it and I’m just weird and crazy! But it feels that way and I can’t handle it. There was a moment in the pool last Saturday… Fuck!” He buried his face in his hands and grunted in frustration. “Do you have any idea how close I was to kissing you? And the worst part of it is, for a second, I thought you wanted me to!”

“I…” Miles’ voice was thick and dry and he cleared his throat. It hardly helped. “I didn’t mean to flirt with you.” He sounded taken aback. “It wasn’t my intention to mess with your head. I’ve always been like that. Saturday – in the pool – I should have considered my actions. I should have…I wasn’t thinking. I was…”

“I’m not usually like this,” confessed Alex. He heard Miles floundering with his words and sympathized. “I don’t lose my cool. I’m an expert in controlling my emotions.” A small laugh escaped him. “I’m beginning to think that I’m this close to losing it entirely, thanks to all the work, the heat… I should probably drink less, too. ‘Cause alcohol appears to be a common denominator each time I’m fucking up!”

“You didn’t fuck up, I did. I made you feel uncomfortable!” Gone were anger and hurt. Guilt took over.

“How about we agree that we both fucked up.”

“Sounds fair.” Miles lowered his head. “Alex…about that moment in the pool—”

“Can we please forget about it? I know I brought it up but…” He exhaled deeply. “It’s late and it’s embarrassing, honestly. Nothing happened, right?”

After a beat, Miles nodded curtly. “Okay.”

He sounded disappointed, but, for the moment, Alex was done with this conversation. He’d said more than he’d wanted to say. He was fairly certain he’d gotten his point across. Miles had informed him that he was a flirt by nature and that was okay. Alex could handle that. He knew how to take his actions, now. He knew that every deeper intention he might have spotted was nothing but wishful thinking on his part. That was fine. As long as he knew.

“You’ll no longer avoid hanging out with me?” asked Miles after a pause.

He couldn’t if he tried! He liked him too much! “No.”

“Cigarette?”

“Yes, please.”

“No, I mean, can I have one? I’m out.”

Alex snorted a laugh, reached for his Marlboros, and held ‘em out for him.

With a grin and tip of his head, Miles took one, lit it up, and inhaled deeply. “So,” he said, after walking a few more steps. “Mark, huh?”

Having lit his own cigarette, Alex was on the verge of inhaling as his words hit. A sound groan rumbled from his throat. “Don’t start.”

“What, I’m curious. He seems…nice.”

“Sounds like an insult when you say it!”

“There’s nothing wrong with being nice!” A cheeky grin clung to Miles’ lips as he balanced on the edge of the sidewalk, arms stretched wide.

Alex stared after him as Miles tiptoed his way across it and wondered if had even the slightest idea how captivating he was. He dripped charisma and oozed sex-appeal without so much as noticing it. He was just being himself, forever amused and entertained by life, even if life was nothing more than a dimly lit sidewalk. Snapping out of his awe, he sprinted to catch up with him. “When you say nice, you really want to say boring!” He kept his eyes on him, clung to his every step.

“You said boring, not me.” Miles jumped around, teetered, laughed, and regained his footing. Arms still stretched, cigarette still firmly between his lips. “But he’s that, right? You wouldn’t have sent him packing otherwise. Was he a date or a booty call?”

“None of your business!”

“Tsk, come on. I already know. He was a booty call. You would never date him!” The sidewalk came to an end and Miles took a turn to the left, heading for a shortcut through a small park.

Alex followed after him, and while he did so, he questioned where Miles found the conviction to make such a statement. “Why would you say that?”

“I am a dating expert, did you forget?” Even in the black of the night, slowly leaving the soft yellow cast of the distant streetlights, Alex could see the sparkle in his eyes as Miles continued. “You, Alex Turner, are impressive, with your talent and your mind and your accomplishments. You look good, too. And that’s not flirting,” Miles added quickly, making Alex roll his eyes. “Prospective men see you and wait for you to notice them. And when you do, allowing a tiny bit of your elusive attention to land on them, they all but surrender to your charm. I think you want somebody who does the opposite.”

“Reject me,” quipped Alex, outwardly amused by the thought and inwardly stoked at being complimented by him.

“You want to be swept off your feet.”

He chuckled, unimpressed by that assessment. “Who doesn’t!”

“Laugh about it, then. But mark my words. You want somebody who comes in and wreaks havoc to your world. You want somebody that steals your breath away. You want somebody who will knock you over and capture you whole!” He smirked, then. “You want to roll over!”

Alex laughed hard and tossed the box of cigarettes at him. “Shut up!”

Miles laughed, too, attempted to catch the flying object, and promptly lost his footing, landing on his ass with a thud. “Fuck, ow!”

“Shit!” Hurrying over, Alex crouched down next to him, a hand on his shoulder and a concerned look on his face. “Are you alright? Anything broken?”

“Like my ass?” He winced in pain and grumbled a vile curse. “Just my pride,” whined Miles.

Grabbing his arm, Alex helped him up. “You fell out of your chair, almost cut off your finger, and now this? Should we settle for less dangerous activities? How about a playdate, tomorrow? With stuffed animals.”

“Fuck. You.”

“I’m being serious,” announced Alex, unable to fight the grin that grew bigger and bigger. “If this goes on, what’s next? Will you fall off a bridge or something?”

Miles huffed indignantly. “Will you stop? It was an unfortunate row of accidents that happened in a short span of time but I’ll have you know, I rarely ever fall, stumble or hurt myself!”

“You just do it in my presence, then?” Alex delighted at that. “I feel honored.”

At that, Miles gave Alex’s shoulder a light and playful push. But Alex wasn’t walking on pavement. It was a park they were in and he was striding over grassy patches which were wet from the rain, which had fallen earlier, and thereby slippery. About to skid, his arm shot out to grab Miles for support. Miles, caught off guard, offered no such thing. “Oooh shit!” He all but allowed Alex to drag him to the ground with him. And the ground, in this case, was a slight slope of slithery wet grass that led straight into a pond.

Water splashed, curses were thrown around and two slightly drunk men emerged from a shallow body of water, remarkably wet.

Alex made it up first and held out his hand for Miles, who quickly joined his side. Eyes met. And roaring laughter began to fill the air.

“Thank God nobody saw that!” Alex looked down at himself, inspecting the damage and finding his favorite pair of slacks ruined by murky and smelly pond water. “What a night, ey?” It sure as hell was different from what he’d imagined it would entail.

“Yeah,” agreed Miles, sounding equally distressed. “I really liked this shirt!” He brought a hand to his nose and grimaced. “Oh, that stinks!”

“My apartment is, like, five minutes or so from here. Yours?”

“More than that.”

“It’s settled, then. That way,” pointed Alex. “And walk fast. You smell disgusting!”

“Right back at you!”

“Who shoved me into the pond, huh?”

“I didn’t shove you into the pond, I gave you a gentle nudge. Into the pond,” he added sheepishly, only to laugh anyway.

“I look like a bloody idiot,” complained Miles as he stood in Alex’s bedroom, inspecting his reflection.

Alex emerged from the bathroom, wearing only sweatpants. He’d just finished his shower and still rubbed his wet hair with a towel as he snuck a glance at Miles. “You look like a guy wearing jeans.”

“Your jeans,” clarified Miles. “Which are, like, ten centimeters too short!”

On the verge of returning to the bathroom, Alex spun around and glared. “They are not! They are supposed to be this short! Don’t act like you’re taller than me!”

“I am,” pronounced Miles, tugging the jeans down.

“You’re not!” Alex ignored his mutters and grabbed his brush, trying to detangle the strands of hair. He’d worn a buzzcut a few years ago and that had been a great time in terms of getting ready. But he was vain, awfully so, and longer, shaggy hair was his preferred style. Even if it meant brushing and conditioning and occasionally blow-drying it. Right now, he was actually grateful for a reason to remain out of sight for an extra minute or two. Miles still fumbled with the jeans, which was fine, but Alex would prefer it if he put on a shirt in the meantime!

He could tell him, but he’d spent the better part of the last weekend watching him shirtless so he truly ought to be okay with it by now. Only, he wasn’t. And admitting that to him was a task too tough after a night of embarrassments.

“I think I need a new phone!”

“Still dead?” Alex called back.

“Reeks of dirty water. Can I use yours to call Hank?”

“Yeah.” He put the brush away, grabbed his sweatshirt, pulled it on, and zipped it close. Then he made his way back out, finding Miles sitting cross-legged on the couch in his living room. “Called yet?” He sat down as well and pulled his legs up.

“Nope. Trying to remember his number!”

“Don’t call him. Stay. It’s late anyway.” It was far from wise to offer it, but he’d be securely asleep in his bedroom, and Miles would be the same, all the way down the hall, in the guest room. “I sort of gave him the night off, right?” Alex shrugged when Miles met his gaze with one of humor.

“Right, you gave my driver off without asking me. Remind me to return the favor.”

He shot back a grin. “Don’t have a driver.”

“I’ll just withhold the pool, then.”

“That’s rude!”

“True,” conceded Miles, smiling softly. “Speaking of the pool, let’s go back next weekend. From the looks of it, the heat will stay around for a while.”

Offering a place to rest might have been unwise, but spending another weekend with him? That was plain stupid. “Um…”

The smile on Miles’ lips got smaller as he eyed him with blatant suspicion. “You’re trying to come up with a good reason not to go, without outright lying again. Am I wrong?”

Alex reached for one of the hideous and useless throw pillows that had at some point moved into his apartment and he brought it to his front, squeezing it with one arm while plucking on a tread with his free hand. “I am tempted to deny that, but that would count as a lie as well. You got me cornered.”

“Why not?” pressed Miles. “I swear I’ll watch my words. I won’t do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable!”

His mere presence was enough to achieve that, thought Alex resignedly. A part of him felt insanely flattered that, despite all of it, Miles put in so much of an effort to hang out with him. Another part of him felt ecstatic about it, even. Rejoiced at it. Read the craziest things into it. But the largest part of him was plainly scared of ending up in a situation that couldn’t be rectified. “What if it’ll become another Saturday night?”

“It won’t,” stated Miles, unequivocally. He tossed Alex his phone and grinned. “But if it helps, you can bring Mark as your safety cushion!”

“Jerk!” Alex threw the pillow at him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do that. And when you decided on a good excuse not to come, tell me, so I can change your mind in time!” Miles tossed the pillow back. He’d aimed well and it met Alex’s face squarely. “Bullseye!”

Quickly grabbing all three pillows from the couch, Alex sat up and issued a warning. “You don’t want to start this fight. It’s been a while since I played it, but I’ve won against the best of ‘em.”

“Ooh, big words! Bring it on!”

He grabbed the first pillow, held it up far behind his neck, and flexed his arm. “Last chance.”

Miles straightened up, stretched his arms wide and grinned. “Try, Turner!”

Alex tossed. The little squishy and unnaturally soft pillow crossed the airspace between them and hit Miles straight in the chest, but he caught it afterward and instantly hurled it back. Within seconds, the three pillows flew from side to side and the fight got harder when a smelly sock that Alex found wedged underneath the couch and an old dusty gummy-bear that Miles dislodged from between the couch cushions entered the arena. “Toss that gummy-bear and I will wipe your face with this sock!”

“All talk and no action!” Miles aimed, released, and watched as the lint-engulfed sweet headed and landed directly on the cusp of Alex’s nose. “Yes!” He was laughing hard, basking in his success.

In no time, Alex lunged across the couch, toppled Miles over, and joined in on his laughter as he rubbed the sock against his cheek. “Take that!”

Miles struggled, wrestled to break free, but Alex held his own, touch though that was. Trying to break free, Miles pushed hard, Alex lost his balance and both dropped the ground. “Theme of the night, huh?” Miles was quaking with laughter.

Alex kissed him.

One moment, he’d been roughing around with him, they’d joked and laughed, then, in the next one, he’d found himself on top of him, on the floor of his apartment, both hands flat on his naked chest. He’d looked into his eyes, had spotted the fun and the joy there, and he’d lost it. He’d grabbed his head, he’d leaned in and he’d done it.

It was an awful kiss. Messily executed! Lips meshed together without any refined movements. Just plain contact. But it was a kiss. Undeniably so. And whether it lasted half a second or half a lifetime, when Alex let go, he was shaken to the very core of his existence.

Miles remained stuck in his position. He was staring at him. Lost, no doubt. Angry, maybe. Shocked.

Wiping his mouth in disgust, Alex scrambled off the floor and stepped away. “There’s your reason,” he spoke somberly. “Still want to change my mind?” Not waiting for the obvious answer, Alex left the room, entered his bedroom, and locked the door.

What a night, indeed.

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 7: **

#

What if…what if it hadn’t been a slip of Alex’s control? What if Miles’ control had slipped?

Why wouldn’t Miles tell him, though, if that had been the case?

The whole time they were friends, Alex had felt like shit for thinking he’d made a move on somebody who didn’t want that. What if he was wrong? And why had Miles allowed him to think that?

#

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me…” The words died on the cusp of his lips as their eyes met. “Tell—”

#


	7. Let's Start Tomorrow

‘ _Fucking talk to me!’_

Alex stared at his phone, more precisely at the message from Miles that he’d received two days ago, and wondered in what way such a conversation would play out like. Would there be yelling? Would there be an impressive array of curse words and insults? Would there be forgiveness or would there be farewell forever? Would it be a match of two flaring tempers or a stare-off of two people waiting for the other one to crack first? Whatever it was, in no scenario that Alex came up with, a level-headed and reasonable exchange of words took place. How could there be that? He’d gone and kissed a married man! A straight, married man.

He’d done a lot of fucked up things in his life but that one really put the cherry on top of the cake!

“Dear, will you join us for dinner or will you continue to hide in your room and mope, like it’s 1999 and Dad took away your CD player?”

He’d fled his apartment.

He'd done it that fateful night after he’d done the unspeakable and mauled a man that wasn't his to kiss. He’d stuffed a few clothes into a duffel bag, had grabbed his keys and he’d headed to his parents’ home on the outskirts of the city. He’d been tempted to leave the country as well, but he’d been in a hurry and he’d forgotten where he’d placed his passport. Plus, traveling was always such a fuss, especially when one had no idea where to travel to!

So, for the past five days, he’d hid in his parents’ guest room, moody like a teenager at his worst.

“No, mom, I’m not hungry!”

“Are you sick? Does your tummy hurt?”

What a stupid conversation to have, through closed doors, divided by a flight of stairs. At the age of thirty! He groaned. “No! Leave me alone!”

“Do you have a headache?”

“No!”

“Then move your butt down here at once and take a seat at the table,” roared his mother, a tiny woman in her late fifties who could scarcely carry a bag of potatoes but still had the voice of a mighty lion.

Placing his guitar away, rolling his eyes like the petulant teenager he was being treated as, Alex stomped down the stairs and planted his butt on what had at some point become his seat only to cross his arms defiantly. “Not. Hungry.”

“Don’t. Care,” announced Penny Turner.

Next to Alex, his father chuckled amused. “Two of a kind. You alright, son? You’ve been hiding upstairs for days now.”

“Just need a bit of distance from my life.” He phrased it as vaguely as he could, lest he wanted to risk spilling more than what was absolutely necessary. “Things got a little…complicated.” He index finger slid around the edge of the plate and as he did that, his eyes wandered from his plate to his dad’s, to his mother’s. “You’re using the plain white ones?”

“What other plates would I use,” asked Penny, confused.

“The ones you took from me? The _pretty_ ones?”

“Tsk, Alex! Those are not to eat from!”

“Yeah, Alex,” mocked his father. “Those are to look at!”

A snort of laughter escaped him. “They are plates.”

“They are for special occasions,” declared Penny, serving him a big scoop of something slimy and green.

He eyed it warily. “Tell you the truth, I think my tummy does hurt.”

“Eat, son.”

“Yes, mom. What special occasions? You guys go out if anything special takes place.”

“Give it a rest, will you? They are securely placed inside the big cabinet in the dining room. Pauline came by last week and…” His mother smiled cheekily. “I dare say she was quite enraptured with them. Complimented me on my fine taste.”

Plates. Alex couldn’t wrap his head around it. Placing the tip of his fork into the mushy green goop on his plate, he forced himself to get it over with and have a bite. Swallowing quickly without chewing, grateful the goo didn’t require such a thing, he grimaced at the bitter aftertaste. “What is that?”

“Tofu.”

He placed his fork away. “I’m full.”

“Let me suffer alone, then,” muttered his dad.

“What’s that?” asked Penny.

“Delicious,” announced David. “Very much so!”

“How’s Miles?” Penny seemed to have no concern about the taste of the terrible Tofu as she ate it. “Pauline told me you two became friends?”

A short laugh. “Something like that.” Friends, they used to be that. Now? Maybe Miles wanted to talk to let him know he’d gotten a restraining order against him!

“Did he set you up with any nice young ladies yet? ‘Cause you’re not getting younger, dear.”

“Well, mom, I appreciate it greatly that you look out for me and remind me that my fair looks are withering fast and that I’ve little else to offer!”

“Oh, Alex! Would you stop!” Penny shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just trying to point out that love doesn’t happen quickly. If you don’t put yourself out there, you will be alone for much longer than necessary and I don’t like the idea that my precious little darling is all alone at home!”

“I’m not lonely.” If only he were. Then his wired, restless mind might stand a chance to calm down and recuperate. But between constant calls from the office, friends that were hardly that, some idiot who didn’t understand that he’d been fundamentally chucked a week ago, and one resolved fool who didn’t get that Alex was a danger to him, he felt very much cornered at the moment.

“I’ll have a chat with Pauline later. She’s coming over for a cup of tea. Would you like to join us, dear?”

“Most definitely not, mom.”

“You’re missing out,” she told him. Then rolled her eyes. “You’re dismissed. Go, already!”

“Thank God!”

An hour later, Alex’s stomach was rumbling loudly. He made his way back down into the kitchen, as discreetly as possible, afraid to stir the delicate sensibilities of his mother by making himself a sandwich and not having another go at the murky green that sat in the fridge like a monster hiding underneath a bed. “Good, there’s cheese!” He grabbed it, stacked three slices onto the dry white bread and dug in. “Mmmmh!” That was proper food!

“It’s just sad, Penny…”

Quickly killing the light, Alex took dive behind the door and strained to make out the words. The woman speaking must be Pauline. He recognized her voice from the brief time he’d spoken with her on Miles’ phone. Judging from the direction, they were sitting in the living room. But what was so sad, he’d like to know. Munching more of the sandwich, Alex leaned against the wall and listened on.

“Have you told him?” His mother asked that.

A pause. “No.” Pauline was speaking again. “He can’t know. He’s such a sweetheart, my Miles. Always looking out for his dad and me. If he knew that I know, he’d feel terrible! He’s no doubt feeling that, already. I thought if I pressured them on the whole grandkids-thing, they’d come forward and admit it. But it doesn’t work. Lena, too, she’s too nice. I’ve been really pushy lately, Penny. I’ve might have crossed a line or two. I did it with the best intentions, however! They keep it up. They act on.”

Act on? Finishing the remains of his dinner, licking his fingers afterward, Alex scrunched his nose. Act how? Act what?

Penny talked again. “If you talk to her? Don’t you think she’d like an end as well? I mean, if you overheard her speaking to this other man, maybe, she’d be open to some change.”

What other man? Straightening up, paying more attention now, Alex began to have the strangest ideas. Was Miles’ wife having an affair? Where they discussing that? Now that he thought about it, it was strange that she was never around. He knew Miles for a month now and he’d yet to see her. And he did talk very little about her, which Alex had noted on several occasions! If he spoke of her, he only spoke in the highest terms, but he never brought her up unprompted!

“She’d be mortified to find out that I overheard her. Poor Lena!”

He sighed inwardly, annoyed. Pauline wouldn’t have pity on her if that woman cheated on Miles, right? What on earth was going on?!

“If only I’d have an explanation for it all, you know?” Pauline paused, then carried on. “My sweet Miles has locked himself away into this sham of a marriage. They both have. She’s in love with another man and my darling son can’t find it in him to call it quits, even though they don’t love each other. I think they’ve done it for the company or something like that. What other reason could there be?”

Alex's hand shot out and held on to the wall as the words sank in. The marriage wasn’t real? It was fake? A business arrangement?

“Maybe he’ll end it when he falls in love with another woman,” supplied Penny. “I mean, you’ve been trying your best to get him to go out more and meet new people.”

“I’ve introduced so many women to him. Daughters of friends of mine. He never so much as winked at them. I’ve asked that friend of his, who apparently knows about the phony marriage, to show him that there’s more out there. But he’s taken Miles’ side in this, I fear. He so committed to this act that I’ve never even seen him flirt with another woman! It’s like he’s completely indifferent to them! It’s useless, Penny. Thank you so much for listening to me, though.”

“Of course! Shall I tell Alex to give him a bit of a nudge?”

“Think he’d do it?”

“Well, Alex doesn’t know the truth. Oh…he doesn’t know. He thinks Miles is married for real. No, he wouldn’t cross that line…”

What line? He could tear his hair out in frustration! Alex no longer understood what lines there were! All he knew was that Miles’ marriage wasn’t real. And that meant he hadn’t stepped into a happy relationship! But why hadn’t Miles told him? Why hadn’t he told him that when Alex had apologized for bloody crossing a line that didn’t even exist? If there were no feelings involved, then…then what? What the hell did that mean? And bloody what should he make of Pauline’s observation that Miles never flirted when Miles had told him that he’d only flirted with Alex ‘cause he was fucking flirt and always did that?! Which, now, appeared to be a lie! So if he never flirted, then why did he flirt with him? Or hadn’t he flirted and Alex had just imagined it?

No. No! He had flirted. Alex might be confused and maybe he was slow to catch up on certain things, but Miles had definitely flirted. That whole thing about catching winks? And then that moment in the pool? What if…what if it hadn’t been a slip of Alex’s control? What if Miles’ control had slipped?

Why wouldn’t Miles tell him, though, if that had been the case?

The whole time they were friends, Alex had felt like shit for thinking he’d made a move on somebody who didn’t want that. What if he was wrong? And why had Miles allowed him to think that?

He had to talk to him! Giving up his cover, he hurried past the living room, to the small table in the hallway where he’d put his keys.

“Alex?”

“Mom…I got to go, I—”

“You heard, didn’t you? Don’t tell him. Pauline doesn’t want Miles to know.”

“I’m not…” That wasn’t an issue that concerned him at the moment! “I got a work thing. I have to go!”

By the time Alex arrived at Miles' apartment complex, he was pissed off! He’d confessed his worries to him. He’d admitted to embarrassing things. He’d opened up and allowed himself to become vulnerable and all the while, Miles had refused to give him the same courtesy. Parking his car in front of his apartment, he hurried in, using the ride up the elevator to pre-sort the words he’d use. He’d have to be smart about this, because Miles had tried to reach him for days and he’d no doubt make a fuss about him skipping town and avoiding him once again.

But there was plenty that Alex planned on making a fuss about! Reaching Miles’ floor, Alex got out and gave a disbelieving snort. Fucker didn’t have an apartment on this floor, he had the whole fucking floor! The corridor was very small and there were two doors. One read service entrance, the other one read Apartment 11. Alex knocked hard on that one.

However, the service entrance opened and an elderly lady stepped out, carrying a purse and a warm smile. “He’s upstairs. Busy. Won’t hear you. Is he expecting you?”

“Who are you?” asked Alex, blinking away his confusion and sidestepping common pleasantries.

“Oh.” She giggled. “Mary. I’m his maid. I’m headed home, so there’s nobody who will open up. I’m sorry.”

“I’m Alex. Alex Turner.” He remembered his manners. “A friend of his.” Although, that term was debatable at the moment.

“He told me about you,” Mary let him know, smiling wider now.

“What?” Briefly ignoring that he was in a hurry to give Miles a good portion of his mind, Alex gave her a perplexed look. “Why’d he do that?”

“We’re friends, he and I. We’re mostly alone in this big apartment. While I do the dusting and he types away on his computer, we chat. You’re the one he invited to his parents’ place. He must like you.”

He’d thought so, too. But, today’s revelation had taken a hard right at his assumptions about him. “He is expecting me,” lied Alex, desperate to get inside. “Any chance you can let him know or—”

“Tell you what, go in. There’s a staircase at the end of the hallway. Call out for him, he’ll hear you then.”

“Thanks so much!” With that, he slipped inside as Mary closed the door behind her. He followed her direction and would have called out for Miles, but the sheer size of this damned apartment did him in and he swung his eyes from end to end in wonder. How was it that a city as crowded as London had apartments the size of a freaking mansion?!

Halfway up the stairs, he called his name. “Miles? Kane! You there?” He took more steps. “Miles, can you hear me? Are you wearing headphones or what?” grumbled Alex as he reached the top. Another door. He knocked. Carefully opened it. “MILES!”

On the other side of the door was another corridor. Plenty of doors. This one was decorated. Album covers hung everywhere, framed in sleek black. Good ones too! Any other day and Alex would have loved to linger and just take everything in. Most doors were closed and he hesitated, pondering what direction to take. He was intruding, certainly, but he’d come with a mission! And he was vehement about finding him. “Miles?” At the far end of the right side, a door was ajar and light emerged. If Miles was alone, there was a good chance he was in there.

“Miles? Are you in here? We have to talk!” He snuck his head in, peeked around. It was his bedroom, from the looks of it. Nicely decorated, that one. More covers on the wall. Some guitars. A lot of clutter. Much like his own. “Come on, where are you?!” Opening the door a bit wider, he heard water, spotted the adjoined bathroom, and groaned. Of course! Ignoring proper etiquette, having ventured way too far into his apartment to heed it now, Alex fully entered the bedroom and leaned against the wide dresser across the foot of the bed.

Time ticked by.

Alex got impatient. How long did one need to take a bloody shower?!

He turned around, blew out a breath, and let his eyes roam over the dresser, absentmindedly taking an inventory of curious items. A comb. Miles’ hair was cropped short. What did he need that for? Not a single female item. Not surprising if his marriage really was fake! A few sunglasses. Apparently, they shared the same vices. Eau de Parfum. The fancy kind, which explained why he smelled so damned well! A bottle of lotion. Oh, he had the same! He liked the smoothness. It was perfect for — A smirk flew up to his face. What a weird thought to have just then! A slip of paper with a phone number and a name. Alex tipped the edge with his finger, moved it around. Frowned. He read it. ‘Call me. Anytime. Rick.’ Below that was a row of digits, and next to that, a winking smiley face.

Rick.

And it wasn’t crumpled or anything. It seemed he’d kept it for a purpose.

Alex couldn’t wait any longer. Could it be?

He took strides and made his way into Miles’ bathroom, pushing the door open, not pausing to hesitate or rethink his actions. “You lied to me!”

The shower was large and luxurious and surrounded by clear glass on three sides. Miles stood in the middle and spun around, startled, sporting a shocked, yet murderous look as he met his eyes. “Alex?! What the fuck? How the hell did you get in?”

He might have entered the room to get answers, but now that he was here, he suddenly cared very little for those. Eyes glued to Miles’ fully naked, dripping wet body, his jaw began to drop as his mouth ran dry.

“ALEX!” snarled Miles, but Alex was in no condition to react, and so, Miles tossed his hands up in frustration or something akin to that. He swiveled around, reached for the door and his eyes darted to the towel that hung right next to Alex. “Could you?”

“What?” he asked but didn’t listen when Miles answered. He was too busy staring. Staring at his arms as rivulets of water curled along the gentle, rolling slopes of his biceps. Staring at his chest as the drops crawled down the center, unrushed, aiming straight for finer lands. Staring at his hips, which he’d touched what seemed like a lifetime ago, and which he’d love to touch again. Staring at his cock, which immediately welcomed his attention.

“Alex…” There was a warning in Miles’ voice.

One that Alex ignored entirely. Taking a step towards the shower’s door, he kept his focus on Miles’ shaft, watching as it began to grow. “Tell me to go.” His voice was strained, a loud whisper in a world of silence. Another step. He stood directly in front of him now, watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a heavy gulp. They were barely inches apart. “Hit me!” His fingertips darted out, to seek contact, settling on the distinct outlines of his abs. “Kick me out. Curse me. Yell at me. Tell to leave and never to return!” They wandered up, his hands. Palms pressed against his stomach now. His breathing became shallow. His lids began to flutter, just as Miles’ did. He had to wet his lips, to speak on. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me…” The words died on the cusp of his lips as their eyes met. “Tell—”

Miles kissed him. He kissed him hard and wild and passionately. He kissed him thoroughly. He kissed him perfectly. He kissed him in exactly the way that Alex had waited all of his life to be kissed in. Wholly. They were desperate for each other. Clinging, groping, moaning, clawing. Pressed to the glass behind him, Alex’s lips stretched into a blissful smile as Miles linked their hands, pushed them up, only to sink himself against him, kissing him all over again. It was relentless. Endless. “You want me.” The words slipped from his throat, hoarse, and low. A moaned realization of a long lingering suspicion that could no longer be denied. An expression of victory, in a sense. He wasn’t crazy. He’d been fooled.

“Madly,” confessed Miles, defeated.

Alex was in heaven. Arching away from the wet glass that had once cooled his back and now seemed to liquify, he recalled his own strength, his own yearning, and his too-long neglected desire to have this man in any way imaginable. He tore his hands free, curled one around Miles’ neck to anchor his mouth against his, and didn’t stop his urge to grab and touch every last bit of him that he could reach. The kiss became uncontrollable, raging on like wildfire after a drought. Flipping around, pushing himself against Miles, he got high on his sighs. His wet jeans clung to him, as did his shirt, and he was overwhelmed by the friction. He could only speculate what Miles was feeling. Hot as it was, though, he needed to get rid of that dividing fabric. The last barrier between them.

Tearing first his lips away from him, and then the rest of his body, he fumbled with the damned buttons and cursed.

Miles’ hand went to his chin, he tilted it up and met his lips for a languid kiss that tore into him in the most erotic way. When he let go, he smirked. Took hold of the shirt’s lapels. And ripped them apart. Satisfied with that, he shoved him up against the wall behind him, flattened him to it, and sunk to his knees.

“Oh fuck,” wailed Alex. “Yes!”

The wet jeans put up a fight, unwilling to give up, but Miles was eager and Alex only too happy to help roughing them down. And once he was naked, at long last, he was turned on to no end just by the look of lust in Miles’ eyes. “Have you ever done this before?” Alex's hand was shaking from the force of his arousal as it rushed through his veins and when he gently placed it against Miles' cheek, staring deeply into his stormy eyes, he couldn't shake his hunch that Miles might be a lot more gay than he’d dreamed of, but he didn’t know for sure, so he’d asked.

Pressing his lips briefly to the curve of Alex’s hipbone, Miles gazed up at him from below his wet lashes. His hands slid up his thighs and his throat brushed his straining cock. “A time or two,” he said with a grin so wicked that Alex wanted to lick it straight off his face. He kissed on, a path directly to the center of his arousal, which he praised with an impressed quirk of his brow and a marvelous lick along the underside. When Miles swallowed him whole, Alex lost his vision.

Again and again, Alex tried to grab his hair, tried to grip the strands that were too short to take full hold of. He got fed up, grabbed Miles’ whole head instead, and pulled him up, and in, to kiss those lips there were too sinful to resist. It was such a different experience, being with him. For too long, his fucks had consisted of faceless men whose eyes he'd avoided and whose lips he'd barely tolerated. He’d forgotten what it could be like to be swept up in a passion that was so powerful that it took your legs out. He kissed him harder. Urgently. And when he was done with that, he reached between them, aligned their cocks and wrapped his hand around both, moving slow, bringing them both to the edge of sanity. Miles’ head dropped into the curve of Alex’s shoulder and he panted hard, producing the finest sounds Alex had ever heard. His other hand reached around him and as his eyes rolled into the far back of his head, the tip of his index finger made a naughty expedition into Miles’ ass.

“More,” he begged.

Alex smiled, dazed and happy, eager to give him what he craved. A second finger joined in.

Miles sank deeper into Alex’s arms, kissing his neck, growling in pleasure. Then, suddenly, he let up completely, met his eyes for a heady exchange of longing looks, and spun around, facing the wall.

Licking his lips in appetite, Alex didn’t need to be told what to do next. He reached for his jeans, fished for the soaked wallet, pulled out the condom, and covered himself. Once done, his hands settled on Miles’ butt, from whereon they slid up, slowly, as his mouth kissed a line from his nape down his spine. Mid-back, Miles pushed back, impatiently, making Alex giggle. “Want something?”

“You. Now.”

How could he possibly refuse? He leaned in, curled one arm around Miles’ body, and brought his erection to where it was meant to go. Burying his face into the crook of his shoulder, Alex pushed it, as careful as he could, struggling to hold himself back when the raspy and hoarse sounds of bliss that escaped Miles’ throat made him want to give up entirely and just fuck him into oblivion.

To utter delight, Miles wanted the same. “Fucking take me!”

Alex quickened his pace.

Miles met all of his thrusts. It got faster and wilder. Restraint vanished. They lost control.

They twirled and turned, arched and curved. Alex had him against the tiles, first, then the glass, then they changed positions and he lifted him up, back against the tiles, only to slide down with him to the ground and watch in sheer elation as Miles rode his dick as though he’d done little else in life and perfected the art of fucking just for him.

“Feel insane,” breathed Miles, hands on Alex’s shoulders.

“Incredible,” Alex joined in, raw and strained, gripping his hips tightly.

Before long, the release hit them and as Alex collapsed against the wall behind him, Miles fell forward, into his arms.

They’d finally turned the water off. Still on the floor of the shower, dried by the air by now, Alex sat spread-legged, leaning against the glass. Miles sat between his thighs, held in place by Alex’s arms. His chin rested on Miles’ shoulder and he couldn’t find it in him to let go. Inside him, a storm was blustering. He was chafing at being lied at, at being played a fool. And yet, this moment, which seemed exempt from time, was his to enjoy and to frolic in. Did he really want to ruin it by discussing a thing as trivial as feelings?

In the end, he did speak up, but not louder than a whisper. So close to him, there was no need for it anyway. It wasn’t his anger that got the better of him. It was his inability to turn his head off. “Why didn't you tell me?”

At Alex’s question, Miles stiffened. But he clearly shared the same reluctance to let go of this moment and he pulled Alex's arms further around his body. The words that left his mouth came out forlornly. “I’m married.”

“I know that it's not for real.” He felt him stir and tense but he kept him securely in his hold. “It doesn't matter how I found out.” That wasn’t what he wanted to delve into, now. “Your secret is still safe. I just wish you would have trusted me with it.”

“Does it matter, though?” Miles asked eventually, resigned. “That my marriage is fake? It's still a marriage as far as the world is concerned. I can't have a relationship, Alex.” He was unhappy about it. It was as palpable as Miles' skin, which Alex kept caressing. “I can't go out and have a stroll through the park while holding hands. I can’t kiss a guy in public. Hardly anybody knows me, but some do.”

“Rick knows you're gay.” It came out bitter and cold and Alex wished he hadn't said it at all, but the words were out and he wanted his answers.

Miles blinked. “What?”

“There's a paper with his number on your dresser.” He rolled his eyes. “Doesn't matter. What I'm trying to say it, some people know you're gay. But you didn't tell me. I was honest. Do you think it was easy for me to admit that being close to you undoes me? You could have told me then! You could have told me that weekend, after the moment in the pool! Why didn't you tell me?”

“'Cause you're not Rick!” With that, Miles wrestled out of Alex's arms and left the shower.

As Alex remained behind, watching him as he grabbed a towel to wrap around himself only to step out of the room, he tried to make sense of his words and actions but it was fruitless. After a minute, he got up as well, not bothering to cover up as he walked back into the bedroom. Miles stood in front of his large closet, flipping aimlessly through hangers of shirts. There was a surprising variety of colors and prints that Alex spotted and he found it distantly amusing that a man with a closet as varied as that only ever wore plain shirts and elegant suits. Was he keeping his shirts a secret as well?

Ignoring his clothes, Miles turned his head, met his eyes. He looked lost, torn, and helpless. “You're not some guy at a bar, Alex. I barely know you and yet, the few times that we've met, I had a better time than I had in years. Maybe ever. I didn't tell you because I was afraid. As long as that lie stood between us, I was safe. It was my hiding place. I know I fucked up. I flirted with you. I didn't mean to, I swear! But I couldn't resist. And in return, I confused you. I'm so sorry about that!”

Miles turned back to his shirts, sorted through a handful of them. Then he slammed the door shut. “Fuck!”

“This was a mistake, wasn’t it?” Alex had suspected it was one the very moment they’d committed it. He should have known the second he’d stepped into Miles’ apartment, traipsing through the lonely halls like an intruder, that he was doing something stupid.

His whole life was defined by weighing the pros and cons of each step that he took and yet, here he was, having run past red flags and warning signs, having deliberately ignored his better judgment, suddenly stuck in a warped world that was too out of balance for the scale he used. “I came here for answers. I wanted to make sense of it.” He spotted the light switch next to the door and traced its edges with his fingertip. “What a mess we’ve made of it now.”

Shaking his head, Miles disagreed. Walking up to him, he cradled Alex's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. It wasn't anything like those hollow kisses Alex had gotten before. Not only did their lips align perfectly, they kissed with much more than that. Miles' arm was snug around Alex's back, anchoring him against him. His other hand remained against his cheek, his thumb kept brushing his skin. And as Alex clung to him, having not hesitated for a split second to kiss him back, driving one hand's fingers through the short, damp hairs of this man, he slid the other hand along the side of his body, finding his hard and defined outlines endlessly fascinating.

A slow kiss, this was. But heady and provocative in its nature. Tongues slipped deeply into each other's mouths. They played with one another, teased and tempted. Until their lungs ran empty and craved oxygen for mere survival. “Not a mistake,” panted Miles, leaning with his forehead against Alex's. “Don’t call it that.”

“But we can't have more,” Alex reminded him, breathless too. And painfully aroused. His hands kept roaming Miles' frame. He couldn't stop. It was much like quitting cigarettes. He'd tried it often and failed each time. The less he was allowed to have, the more he wanted, and the stronger he yearned for it. “I have to leave.”

A jerky nod from Miles. He, too, clung to him. “No more weekends away, then. No alone time.”

“No.” He chuckled, even though he couldn't say what was funny about it. Maybe it was the absurdity of it all that humored him. The admission of being preposterously incapable of remaining in his company without seeking physical contact. “Soon. Maybe.” His teeth dragged along Miles’ jawline. “We should stay away from each other for a while.”

“Mmhhh. Sounds right.”

Neither one let go.

Miles' gaze lowered and Alex followed his line of sight, found him looking at his exposed erection which rubbed eagerly against Miles' towel-clad one. “Let's start tomorrow,” growled Miles, lifted Alex off the floor, and all but tossed him onto the nearby bed.

Alex scooted up the mattress, reached for Miles, and pulled him in for yet another mind-blowing kiss. “Tomorrow,” he hushed between licks of his tongue and wet, wild lip-locks that left both gasping for air. He leaned back, sank onto the comforter, and gave a look so wanton and seductive he didn't know he had in him. As Miles descended into his arms, kissing a fiery path from his neck down his throat, Alex cupped his chin, ghosted his lips, then shifted, turning around onto his stomach.

“I thought you don't roll over,” whispered Miles, resuming his tantalizing kisses down his neck.

When he bit his lobe, Alex whimpered. “I do for you.”

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 8: **

**#**

They’d found the bar in no time and stood there, squeezed together by the sheer amount of people that crowded the surprisingly small club. Arms pressed together, hips were touching, and Miles became more and more flustered by each second that passed in wooden silence. He clung hard to his beer and took clumsy little sips. Everyone who watched must have laughed at the view. The thought of it didn’t help either. He glanced at Alex, chewing on the corner of his lip nervously. “I’ve run from less.”

A graceless laugh escaped Alex, half scoff and half snort. “Me, too!”

#

“He’s just a faceless man from my past.” His other hand Miles raised to touch Alex’s cheek and the latter twitched at the contact. He didn’t move away, though. And Miles gently turned his face to meet his gaze, grazing the soft skin beneath his eye with his thumb. “You’re my unicorn.” 

#


	8. Unicorns

_‘Can we text?’_

Miles hit ‘send’ before he could change his mind like he’d done a hundred times for the last week and a half. Ever since Alex had slipped out of his arms in the early morning of Day One post-sex, Miles had wanted to reach out. But what did one say after a one-night stand with a guy that one wanted a million more night stands with? How did one express one’s emotions without coming off as a needy, sappy, pathetic, sex-starved guy? How was he supposed to let Alex know that he’d like to be his friend, hang out with him in a strictly platonic manner, while not minding the occasional glimpse at his naked body – from a distance – to make sure his dirty dreams remained accurate? How was he to phrase his desire to remain close to him without ending up way too close to him?

His phone chimed.

Alex had replied.

_‘Text about what?’_

Shit!

Miles flinched. He should have considered a possible reply before. Fingers hovered over the letters as he rummaged through his suddenly hollow head for something to say.

_‘The weather?’_

Bad joke. He deleted that. Tried over.

_‘Life.’_

Just as stupid. Delete.

_‘The unbearable unfairness of being unable to fuck you.’_ He snickered. That ought to get the conversation started! With a groan he hit delete.

Another text from Alex. ' _Um…?’_

He blinked. What? Oh no! He’d hit ‘send’ instead of ‘delete’. Cringing hard, he cursed vilely. “Jesus Fucking Christ!” Oh, this was exactly why he hated phones! It was far too easy to mess up. There was no way he’d be able to put into typed words the kind of screw-up this had been. So, he hit ‘dial’.

Alex refused to pick up.

Yet another text from him. _‘Stuck in a meeting. Talk later.’_

His groan returned, louder and with more attitude. Blowing out a breath and flinging himself deeply into his comfy leather chair, Miles threw his phone across the office, straight on top of the mohair-infested couch, and crossed his arms moodily. “Damnit!” _This sucks big!_ And he was glad nobody could hear or read his thoughts since he was well aware that he sounded like a snotty teenager. But it didn’t matter. He was in over his head! He didn’t know how to handle this situation. Life, usually, was fun and adventurous. Sure, it could be stressful at times. It was part of the greater good, though. And he liked stress, to a certain amount. It made him think on his feet. Made him be spontaneous and quick to decide when, at other times, he put too much thought into things.

Now, however, his wonderful life had become a giant cluster-fuck of frustration, feelings, and awkwardness, and, instead of being ready to tackle it, he felt steamrolled by it.

“Knock, knock.” Then it knocked on his door, twice. Doreen stepped in.

“You don’t have to say it, then do it. Pick one.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been knocking for a minute now. If you had paid attention, you’d have heard it the first time!”

Miles looked away, grumbling, “Was busy.”

“I bet,” she countered, much like she would have done if he’d told her he’d spotted Elvis walking down the street. “Anyway. A…” Doreen glanced at the notepad in her hand and cleared her throat. “A Mr. Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard called to let you know he’s reserved you tickets for his show tonight, as you asked him to do.”

A snort. “It’s a band, not a Mister.”

She raised her brow, on the verge of looking offended. “Then I would humbly suggest letting the person that made the phone call know to introduce himself with his given name. Lest he wants to be known for his affinity toward birds. Next. The server farm called. They ran the tests you asked them to and they will mail over the estimated number of additional servers required to field the increased traffic that the new apps will produce. Lena left a message for you as well. She’ll be stuck in Madrid for an extra day, and will fly to San Francisco the day after tomorrow, to meet with that exec from that Teflon Valley company—”

“Silicon Valley,” interjected Miles.

“Whatever Valley,” dismissed Doreen. “She’ll meet him, discuss the website-project and report back as soon as possible. And your mother called.” At that, her tone considerably softened. “Pauline wanted to remind you that it’s been a few days since you called or visited, which is not okay for a son – the last bit is my personal opinion, and not part of her message – and unless you decided to change your behavior – those are her words again – she’d decide to take it personally. Also, I’m supposed to remind you to eat your vegetables and that there is only so much pizza a man could eat before getting fat.”

Grinding his teeth, Miles forced his lips wide, to indicate a smile that didn’t exist. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Doreen left.

Looking down at his stomach, tugging the fabric of his shirt taught, he huffed. Flat. Perfectly so. “I will eat as much pizza as I want!” And even if he did get fat, it’s not as though anyone would mind! He had no boyfriend, no sex life, not even a fucking date life!

His phone rang. With a tired sigh he got up, fought the urge to stomp across the room, and grabbed it. “Who is this?!”

“Somebody who is very tempted to hang up,” warned Alex. “What’s with your mood?”

“It tanked.”

“Hanging up now.”

“Wait!” Miles sat down on his desk, gazed out of his window and noticed that the sun was, once again, burning bright, casting the city in warm, golden tones. “Sorry.” He recalled his text. “Also, that message I sent…er…that kinda…was a joke.”

“It was?” A pause. “Okay.”

“Was it not?” asked Miles, confused.

“You tell me. It was your text.”

“Well, yes.” Of course, it was his text! He rubbed his eyes, frustrated. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” Alex assured, in all seriousness. “Just saying, it could have been a profound statement.”

‘Profound statement’ sure had a better ring to it than ‘I accidentally hit ‘send’’. “You think?”

“Calling it ‘unbearably unfair’ not to have me sure sounds like a profound compliment to me.” He was chuckling, now. “I feel flattered. Thanks, Miles.”

He ticked his jaw. “Like I said. I was joking.”

“Tsk, liar.”

“Was there a reason you called?”

“Yes.” Alex scoffed. “Your text. You wanted to talk, did you forget?”

He did. Somewhat. Taking a deep breath, scooting further up his desk and watching his feet as they dangled freely in the air, Miles gnawed on his lower lip. An idea lingered on his mind. He hadn’t meant to ask him. But now? He was fed up with this self-imposed nonsense of keeping a distance. He wanted his friend back. He missed texting him and getting calls from him in the most inopportune of times. “Let’s go out tonight.”

Silence.

More silence.

Finally, Alex spoke up. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t you miss me?”

A snort of laughter. “Oh, I miss your modesty!”

“There’s a concert tonight! I got the tickets.” He knew the band. Weeks ago, when they had announced a show in London, he’d asked for two tickets, for himself and for Alex. They had been in the pre-sex phase of their friendship at that point. It had been a simpler time. “Come on! It’s not a candle-light dinner. Nothing romantic. Nothing sexy. Just a good, old rock concert. At a club. It’ll be crowded, which means we’ll have to act all straight anyway.”

“‘Cause we’re such flaming gays on any other occasion,” drawled Alex.

Miles ignored that. “It’ll be perfect for us to rekindle our friendship!”

“Fine,” conceded Alex.

“Don’t sound too excited,” snipped Miles.

“Sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to.” A sigh from him. “I’m not used to this kind of thing.”

“Concerts?” Miles frowned.

“Rekindling,” retorted Alex. “Usually, if things turn weird, I walk away.”

He knew that urge! “Makes two of us,” admitted Miles. “How hard can it be, though? We’re not, like, two delicate and emotionally fragile people. We’re bloody grown-ups. What will change? We still laugh at the same jokes. We like the same music. As long as we don’t kiss or fuck, all’s good.”

More laughter. “You make it sound so simple.”

Miles grinned. “Hey, I promise, if you make a move on me, I’ll hit you. How’s that?”

“Perfect,” chuckled Alex. “Text me when and where, alright? See you tonight.”

“Will do.”

_Make a move on me_ , thought Miles.

He stood near the front door of the club, smoking a cigarette, idly chatting with a few strangers who hung out and smoked as well when Alex arrived. He came by cab and as he got out, tugging on the sleeve of his well-worn, perfectly fitting leather jacket, Miles became preoccupied with the way in which his tight black jeans clung to his lean hips. Like wet silk, plastered against his fine frame, accentuating not only his pelvic area, but also revealing the marvelously well-curved thighs that had welcomed him so sweetly, those jeans ought to require a firearms license!

They could kill a person! Death by blue balls.

Tossing his cigarette away and realizing too late that he’d only dragged once, maybe twice, it quickly occurred to him that this would become a very long, very tough night. He hadn’t even said ‘hello’ and already struggled with his control.

“Hey.” Alex walked up to him, an unsteady smile on his lips. “Long time, huh?”

“Yes.” It was awkward. Miles stood there, unsure what to do or say. He felt like a fool. He wanted to hug him the way he’d done when Alex had picked him up for their weekend away. Quick and firm, not a full-body squeeze, but a proper greeting, nonetheless. More than a silly nod. Everybody got that. Alex wasn’t anybody. He was more than that. He wasn’t a regular friend. He wasn’t a handshake.

In the end, he did nothing. No nod, no hug, not even the hand. And Miles suffered because of it. He’d looked forward to this moment, to seeing him again. He’d had high hopes and great expectations. And all of those tumbled beneath the crushing weight of reality. “Should we go inside? Drink?”

“God yes,” blurted Alex. And shook his head immediately. Discomfort was written all over his face. “Let’s just…”

“Yes,” agreed Miles, understanding perfectly.

They’d found the bar in no time and stood there, squeezed together by the sheer amount of people that crowded the surprisingly small club. Arms pressed together, hips were touching, and Miles became more and more flustered by each second that passed in wooden silence. He clung hard to his beer and took clumsy little sips. Everyone who watched must have laughed at the view. The thought of it didn’t help either. And as he nervously nibbled on his lip, he glanced at Alex. “I’ve run from less.”

A graceless laugh escaped Alex, half scoff and half snort. “Me, too!” He faced him fully. “This is bloody ridiculous!”

“It is,” exclaimed Miles whole-heartedly. Only to add sheepishly, “don’t know how to make it better, though.”

“I don’t think beer will help.” Alex waved for the bartender. “Four tequila.”

A genuine laugh from Miles. “That a good idea?”

“Got a better one?”

“Make it six,” he told the guy behind the bar.

“That’s the spirit,” said Alex, grinning. “If we do it, let’s do it right!”

Half an hour later and well down the road of getting shit-faced, Alex and Miles stood in the front of the club, clutching their bottles of beer and cheering loudly as the lights dimmed and the curtain parted.

“I’m bad under pressure,” said Miles as the band walked on stage. Though, to be perfectly honest, he was leaning closely, for no good reason, into the curve of Alex’s shoulder, while his lips moved perilously near his ear. He had to speak up to even hear himself amongst the loudness of the raucous crowd and he used that as his excuse to remain plastered to him. “I know I made you go out with me tonight. If you want to leave…”

“I want to,” replied Alex in the nick of time. Loud, too. He turned to meet his eyes.

Miles nodded acceptingly, but he couldn’t hide his dejection.

“But I won’t!”

“Huh?”

“I do miss you,” Alex confessed. “You’re…” Brushing strands of hair from his forehead, Alex took a swig from his beer and directed his attention back to the stage. “You’re not like anyone else in my life. Seems you actually like me for some reason. And I like you. Would be silly to give up on this friendship that we have because you-know-what got in the way. That awkwardness will eventually go away, right? I mean, it has to!” He took another swig. “Until it does, we’ll just get drunk.” He clinked their bottles together. “Agree?”

Miles smiled, feeling that much better all of sudden. Not only did Alex have hope for the future, but he also planned on staying and not going home. The smile got wider. “Agree!”

The drummer cued in the first song. “Oh,” announced Miles excitedly. “Show’s about to start.” He snaked his arm around Alex’s shoulders, wholly unaware of how tightly he pulled him in. “They’re insane!” But it didn’t slip his attention that Alex didn’t tense this time around like he’d done before, at the bar. This time, he allowed the touch. Leaned into it as well. And Miles began to ease up. As the alcohol did his part to help things move in a tranquil and less dismayed manner, Miles drifted further and further into Alex’s side.

Halfway into the concert, Alex’s arm was tightly curled around Miles’ back and not letting go, despite singing along, despite cheering and even despite clapping. If one made a trip to the bar, upon return, they resumed their positions.

“They’re fucking awesome,” shouted Alex, clearly having fun. He tilted his head toward Miles, brought his lips close to his cheek. “Thanks so much for inviting me!”

“You’re welcome,” replied Miles, making sure to move his mouth as close to Alex as was possible. All in the name of friendship, he told himself. He was just making sure that Alex actually understood his words considering the noise around them. “We should go out more often! Go to concerts and that!”

“Yes!” Alex still spoke directly into his ear. “There’s a Beatles cover-band that is incredible. They’re playing a show a few weeks from now. Want to go?”

Miles turned his face and looked at him, only to freeze when Alex's lips accidentally brushed the very corner of his mouth.

Seconds ticked by, until, finally, Alex blinked. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay!” This close to the stage, they were shouting more than talking. The energy was contagious, the crowd was crazy and wild, and the band was delivering a great performance. All of that made Miles care very little about good intentions and appropriate behavior. Besides, that little slip had been an accident. Nothing more. And he didn’t mind it, either. He beamed at Alex. “I love The Beatles! I’d love to go!”

Alex flashed a radiant smile back at him. “Perfect!”

Alex had gone to relieve himself and Miles stood at the corner of the bar, catching his breath and ordering more Whiskey. They’d sung along, they’d screamed and danced and jumped and it had been incredible! He loved being out with him and just having a good time. In his presence, Miles let loose like he rarely ever did with others. Around Alex, life was infinitely more invigorating, in a sense. It was more intense. A never-ending spiral of amusement.

“Miles?”

He tilted his head, glanced over his shoulder, and wished he hadn’t looked. “Rick. Hi…”

“Been a while. You never called after our night.”

“It was hardly a night.” His eyes searched for Alex. “A few hours at most.” And after it was done and he’d rushed out of Rick’s bed, the guy had hastily written down his number and pushed the piece of paper into his hand. Miles had put it in his pocket, out of politeness. Then he’d emptied them at home. He’d kept the number. He might have called.

Only, a few days later, he’d met Alex and Rick was no longer a memory worth holding onto. He, just as every other man that Miles had been with up to that point, had instantly paled compared to Alex. And they had all paled long before Miles had even laid his lips on him.

Rick slipped between some other customers and Miles and leaned up against the bar. A suggestive smile clung to his lips. “Should we make it a night?”

He wanted to be rid of him. But being dismissive wasn’t something that came easy to him. “I feel flattered. But…look, I didn’t come here come alone.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, too bad.” As Rick winked at him, Miles felt reminded of Alex’s winks. How different they were. How similar, somehow, yet again, worlds apart. When Rick did it, to Miles, it was an empty gesture. A flirtatious move. A cheeky thing. When Alex did it, the whole world began to spin in all directions at once. He felt light-headed, then. Woozy and feverish. On the cusp of tipping over.

Rick gave him a parting nod. “If you change your mind, call me.”

“Bye, Rick.”

As he walked off, clearing the space next to him, Miles spotted Alex standing right behind him.

“What are the odds that he’s the one who…” The words died on his lips as Miles nodded somberly.

“Nothing happened, though.” He moved a glass of whiskey towards him. “I told him I didn’t come alone.”

At that, Alex shook his head. That humor and fun that had been there before were gone, all of sudden. Nothing but a dull sadness remained. “You did, Miles. You did!” After that, he left.

“Alex, wait!”

He didn’t wait. Miles pushed his way through the crowd, tried catching up, but Alex was fast and once outside, he jumped into the first cab, leaving Miles stranded by the curb.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Alex stood in the doorway of his apartment, one arm stretched up against the frame, leaning against it. His hair was no longer styled. It had begun to look a little out of place in the club, but now, it appeared, he’d rested his head or something. Curly, wayward strands stood out at odd angles, and Miles had to hold himself back from reaching out and brushing them back into place. It wasn’t his place to do so. That sort of gesture was reserved for somebody who lived in his arms. Not for somebody who’d stayed there for a night and who was too scared to return for more.

Miles remained in the hallway. He was no longer positively buzzed, but residually drunk and, whereas, before, the alcohol had intensified all the good feelings, it now did the same to all the bad ones. “Did I wake you?” His mind needed longer to grasp things. “Sorry if I did.”

“No, it’s alright.” He sure looked tired. Alex moved to the side to make room. “Come in.”

“I can’t.” God knows what he’d do if crossed that threshold.

For a while, they just stood there, staring at each other, wordlessly. The corridor was empty with the exception of Miles. The off-white walls were barely illuminated and the shallow, dimmed lights cast long shadows on the floor. Long tails, full of unspoken words.

Alex broke the silence first. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know.” It was a lie. He knew why he was here. It was the very reason he couldn’t possibly step into the apartment. Yet, it was also not a lie. He knew better than to come here and risk a repeat, so why had he come, then?

“Miles…”

“I know. What you said in the club, I know. Okay? That it wasn’t a date? Of course, it wasn’t a date!” He turned to his side, away from Alex’s burning eyes, torn by what his head told him and what the rest of him was starving for. “We’re just two people who went to see a band. I know that. I’ve been telling myself over and over. It’s written in big fucking neon letters inside my head.” His shoulders fell and his lids fell shut. He was exhausted. In so many ways. For days, he’d pretended that he was okay with their night being nothing but a one-night stand. For weeks, he’d pretended that he was fine with being Alex’s friend. He’d done his hardest and his mightiest to focus solely on the platonic friendship. He’d fooled himself into thinking he could handle every and all things that came their way. But tonight, he’d been hit by a fucking truck and the impact had shaken him out of his stupor.

He'd known they were nothing more than two friends at a concert, drinking and laughing. But he’d wanted them to be two people out on a date, doing so much more than that!

Alex shifted, pressed his back against the frame as his head rolled back. “It’s late, Miles. We shouldn’t do this now.”

He knew. Fuck, he knew that, too! If only he could stop! “He was a great fuck.”

“Miles—”

“No, I mean, he was!” The words needed to leave his head, else he’d choke on them. “I know that you saw his number. Yes, I kept it. Because he was!” He wiped his eyes, struggling with what he was trying to say. “But I don’t care anymore! I should, right? ‘Cause we can’t be and – fuck!” Finally looking at Alex and finding his face stricken with turmoil, Miles let out a long and heavy breath. Reaching for the wall, he stretched his arm, placed his hand against the fine tapestry and slowly sank forward, closer toward him. “He’s just a faceless man from my past.” His other hand Miles raised to touch Alex’s cheek and the latter twitched at the contact. He didn’t move away, though. And Miles gently turned his face to meet his gaze, grazing the soft skin beneath his eye with his thumb. “You’re my unicorn.”

Alex had the oddest, most befuddled expression on his face, but his eyes were glued to Miles.

And Miles smiled at him, in a mixture of utter fascination and complete desolation. “It’s like I waited all of my life to find you and now that I finally did, turns out you’re not mine to have.” Another brush of his thumb. He could have sworn Alex had leaned into his palm. Miles let go of him abruptly, faced away and reclined against the wall. “I don’t want Rick or any other guy. I want you. I thought I could be your friend. I really wanted to be your friend, I swear! I still do. But I want so much more than that!” His eyes had fallen close and when he opened them, he was taken aback to find Alex standing right in front of him. His breath hitched his throat. His mouth ran dry. And when Alex’s hands settled on his stomach, he forgot how to breathe altogether.

“We can’t be friends, then?” Alex leaned closer.

Miles began to shiver as he gently shook his head.

“This is goodbye?”

“For now.”

“Say it properly!”

In a split second, Miles grabbed his waist, spun him around, and pushed him flat against the plain white wall of the corridor. He coaxed his lips apart and took Alex’s tongue out for a ride that neither one would forget anytime soon. No holding back. No easing into the kiss. Just desperation. But as Alex’s soft and teasing fingers began to fumble with his buttons, Miles stilled and twisted his mouth away.

Alex sank his lips against Miles’ jaw, kissed and licked, and tempted him. “Don’t stop.”

“I must,” breathed Miles, strained. He covered Alex’s hands and stopped his moves. Then he met his eyes, his black and hungry eyes that were full of unfulfillable promises and fever-dreams. “If I don’t stop now, I never will.”

Letting go, Alex stepped away.

Miles did the same. Swallowed. Whispered, “Goodbye.”

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 9: **

#

Miles' mouth ran dry. He had to wet his lips. And there was some tightening in the groin that lacked all reasoning. God, how he wanted that single, naughty finger on himself. Anywhere, no matter where! 

Alex met his eyes. The hint of a smirk tugged on his lips. He placed both hands into his lap. “Would you like more?” 

He swallowed again. Hard, this time. “That was more than enough!” 

#

He searched his own pockets for cigarettes, but couldn’t find them. “Give me one!”

Alex raised a brow. “I might want a blow-job for that!”

Miles’ jaw ticked.

#


	9. It's Just Coffee

“Explain this to me again,” demanded Miles, trying as hard as he could to keep his composure even though he felt on the verge of combusting into a giant mushroom cloud of sweat and exhaustion. “You need new plates ‘cause Penny has new plates?”

Pauline Kane swiveled around and crossed her arms offendedly. “I beg your pardon?” She stood between two massive displays of Wedgwood tableware, at Harrods’, glaring at Miles with a look so filled with disappointment as though he’d just broken one of the finest teacups the world had ever laid witness to. “That sounds completely mad. I don’t need new plates just because my best friend has new plates. What am I? An ill-raised brat? I’d like a new teapot and matching teacups. If you think I shouldn’t get some, since my old, shabby ones still do their job, despite the pot being leaky and the cups being washed out, then so be it.” Her tone turned somber. “Let’s leave right now. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you with my humble wish for a bit of presentable tableware.”

Miles bit his tongue, forced himself to smile apologetically at the sales assistant that waited nearby, at a polite distance, then met his mother’s damp eyes. He’d feel bad for her tears if he knew they were genuine. Which they weren’t. She was a master of manipulation. “No, mother, that was not what I was implying.” For the two weeks, he’d spent most of his hours in the office, swamped by work and pressured by all sorts of people to perform a wild array of miracles, ranging from magically producing new programmers to finding spare office space in a skyscraper that was perennially rented out. This was his first day off in a long time and he’d looked forward to spending it on his couch, sleeping. That beautiful plan, however, had vanished into thin air when his mother had dropped by unannounced to inform him that he, the son, had a moral obligation to accompany his mother to buy some fucking tableware! “Buy whatever.”

“You sound terse,” noted Pauline. Condemnation laced her words.

Miles didn’t care. “I’m tired, stressed-out and I don’t understand why I had to come along.”

The fake tears persisted. “You’re my darling son and I miss spending time with you.”

“Could have spent time with me on the couch.”

“Watching you waste the day by napping?” She shook her head in mortification. “Miles! You’re a young, strong man. Those don’t wither their lives away on couches.”

“If only I could,” muttered Miles.

But his mother no longer paid him any attention. “Oh dear, look! My friend Sheila. And her lovely daughter Caroline!” She waved them over. Pauline tossed him a quirked brow. “Caroline is a doctor. She’s got a Ph.D. and a golden retriever. She just got divorced.”

A snort from Miles. “Good for her.” He felt his phone vibrating and reached for it, but his mother noted his intent. Immediately, her arm shot out and stilled his hand.

“No. No work today. You promised.” The friend and the daughter joined them, crowding the limited space between butterfly-adorned cups and hand-painted plates. Miles swallowed his urge to make a hasty exit, held out his hand, and did his best at appearing pleasant and charming. “Nice to see you again, Sheila!”

Sheila beamed. “Miles, look at you. All grown-up and handsome. Caroline, isn’t he handsome? Look at him!”

Caroline nodded and smiled politely. She was the quiet kind, judging by first impressions, and yet, there was an unsettling spark of intrigue in her eyes. One that quickly went dark when he pointedly fidgeted with his wedding band. Sheila raised her hand.

_’Pinch my cheek and I’ll bite,’_ thought Miles.

Sheila must have gotten the message, nonetheless. Her hand lowered. “Caroline. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand as well. Tipped his head like his mother insisted he’d do whenever he met a woman.

The others quickly slipped into a discussion about gold-rimmed cups and whether or not they could be presented if one only had silver spoons to add.

Miles used that heated discord of opinion that brought to his mind similar arguments at the side of football fields when second-guessing off-site goals to sneak away toward the pots and pans to take a breather. “Bloody hell!” Rubbing his face with both hands, he groaned loudly.

“Tsk, that a way to behave here?”

Eyes flew open wide. That voice. He’d recognize it everywhere. “Alex?”

Gone was joking. Awkwardness arrived. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He hadn’t seen him in two weeks. Not since they had kissed goodbye. Not since deciding that…well, whatever was it that they had decided that strange night? That they were too horny to be friends?

“I’m not here for you,” Alex informed him. Then cringed. “How would I be? I didn’t know you’d be here.” He said it more to himself than to Miles. His eyes met his. A helpless chuckle filled the air. Then he took a deep breath. “How are you? You seem…tired.”

A snort from Miles, and a bit of laughter, too. “On the verge of crying, that’s how fucking exhausted I am right now.” He was even too strung out to feel flustered or rattled. He was beaten. Completely.

“Go home, then,” suggested Alex, slightly amused and, that part tugged straight on his heart, even a bit worried.

“Can’t. My mother is over there.” He nodded towards the group of chatting women.

Alex looked there. “Ah, yes. My mother is there, too. Something about teacups and a golden retriever that got divorced or something. Wasn’t paying attention.”

Suddenly, it clicked. “It’s your fault I’m here!”

Alex swiveled around, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“You gave your mom some plates. And now my mom, for reasons that escape all understanding, needs new teacups.” Miles leaned against a massive wooden table that was decorated with an utterly insane assortment of oven accessories – a category Miles didn’t knew existed up until this very moment – and crossed his arms, smirking. “Don’t you know that your actions have consequences for the rest of us?”

Looking a lot less flustered than a few moments ago, Alex quirked his brow. “Careful, Kane. Any more of that disapproving tone and I might buy my mom a new set of silverware. What will that do your day, huh?”

“Don’t you dare,” warned Miles. “Make that move and I’ll give Caroline your number.”

“Who is Caroline?”

“The pretty blonde that your mom is smiling at. She got divorced. Not her golden retriever,” Miles explained with a grin. “And now that you’re here, it makes a whole lot of sense why she’s here.” He nodded towards the women, two of whom were shooting chagrined glares in their direction. “Our moms would like us to return to them, it appears.”

Alex closed his eyes and grumbled. “A hundred bucks if you faint now and fake an emergency.”

“I’d do it for free if it helped me in any way. But it would lead to my mom hovering even more. Shit, they’re coming over.”

“Miles!” Pauline tugged on his arm. “Stand straight, sweetheart. You’re hunching!

Alex snorted, then nearly choked on it when Penny dabbed his shoulders. “You, too, dear! Caroline must think you’re Quasimodo!”

Miles bit his tongue from laughing. “Mrs. Turner!” He gathered all of his remaining energy, formed a bright smile, and rewarded it to her. “What a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Alex has told me so much about you! From his love of going shopping with you right down to your phenomenal cooking skills. You make a mean _vegetable_ lasagna, I’ve heard.”

A glare so secret and yet so stern blasted from Alex’s eyes that Miles briefly wondered if he’d gone too far. He knew that he had when Alex spoke up.

“Pauline!” He grabbed her hand and shook it warmly. “The same goes for me. I’m delighted to finally and formally make your acquaintance. Miles keeps gushing about your formidable talent for baking sweets and tells me he’d love to learn some recipes from you at some point!”

“Does he?” Pauline lit up like a Christmas tree. “Miles! You never said anything. Oh, darling, we’ll set a date for very soon, will we? We’ll do it on a weekend. Just you and me, baking all day! What a wonderful idea.”

“Yes,” ground Miles, his eyes shelling deadly daggers at Alex. “What a wonderful idea.”

“Indeed,” smiled Alex.

“Boys, we’re wasting valuable daylight here.” Penny linked her arm with Alex. “We’re on the hunt for pretty teacups and a matching pot.”

Pauline grabbed Miles’ hand. “And maybe a new set of spoons, just in case there’s a hue of gold in the decor.”

“As it so happens…” Miles wrestled free and he really had to use some strength to get his hand back. “I have a very, very crucial, and important business meeting that came up just now. Mom, I love you. We’ll talk later. We’ll bake soon,” he added, surreptitiously sliding his attention toward Alex, “but I need to go.”

“Oh, but we came with your driver. What if I find something? I can’t carry it on the tube.”

“Keep Hank. I’ll—”

“I’ll drive,” suggested Alex in no time at all, clearly eager to leave as well. “You two do the shopping. We’ll do the work. See you soon, mom. Ladies!” Alex put his hand on Miles’ arm and the latter ignored that jolt of tingling that spread immediately into every limb. “Move now. Hurry,” he murmured. 

Miles did hurry. Not only did he want to leave, he also tried to escape Alex’s touch. He bypassed the elevator, not trusting his self-control in confined spaces, and made for the stairs. “Thanks for the help. No need to drive, though. Home’s nearby.”

A scoff from him. “Figured you were lying. Wanna grab a coffee?”

Stopping instantly and toppling briefly when Alex crashed into his back mid-stairs, Miles turned around cursing. “Bloody hell, watch it!”

“Watch it, yourself! You short-stopped out of nowhere!” He rubbed chin, which had collided with Miles’ shoulder.

“Coffee?” He spoke carefully now, afraid to say something wrong. “That a good idea?”

“At a cafe! Not alone, at home. Will you maul me there?”

“Maul?” Miles cringed inwardly when he heard his own shrieking voice. He cleared his throat. Lowered his tone. “That’s not—”

“Please.” Alex stared directly at him, almost begging him. “One coffee.”

Damnit! Didn’t Alex understand that he didn’t mind having a coffee with him? The problem wasn’t that he didn’t want a single fucking coffee! The problem was that he wanted a fucking million coffees! And then some. Another problem was that Miles was incapable of saying ‘no’ to Alex. “Okay.”

Fifteen minutes later, they sat a street corner away, outside, each one smoking a cigarette, as their coffees rested in front of them.

“I’ve been meaning to call for a few days now.” Alex dabbed the ash into the tray and brought the Marlboro back to his lips. “Don’t you think this is stupid? That we can’t hang out?”

“Alex…” Inhaling deeply, then blowing out a billowing cloud of smoke, Miles focused on some strangers that sat a few tables away. A couple. They were holding hands. Smiling. “It’s not that I don’t want to hang out. It’s…”

“You want more,” said Alex quietly. “I know that.” He, too, spotted Miles, was observing the couple. “I want that, too. That,” he intonated, pointedly looking at the pair that was kissing now. “But we can’t have it. You know it and I know it. We’re better than this, Miles. We’ll keep our distance. We avoid each other’s apartments. But coffee? Is that too much to ask?”

“I don’t know, Alex. Is it?” It was an honest question. He busied himself with the napkin, fraying an edge and then another one. He missed him! He couldn’t deny that. He might have had two busy weeks, but they had been far more stuffed with work than had been necessary. And he’d buried himself with work just so he wouldn’t spend any more time thinking about him. Maybe Alex was right. If they stayed away from dangerous situations, and liquor, they might stand a chance. “I mean…before? It was kind of fun, selling you out to your mom like that.” A small smirk made it to his face. He snuck a glance at him.

Alex grinned, too. “Think I won that round. You’ll have to bake now.”

“Yes,” allowed Miles. “But I also get to eat it.”

“That’s true. Maybe I should join you.”

“Do it. Mom would love it.”

“Think they’re still deciding on cups?”

Miles laughed. “No doubt!” He could see in front of his eyes, his mother and Alex’s mother driving the poor sales assistant to despair by nitpicking about every little detail. “I suggested online shopping. Mom almost took my head off. Said the internet was the root of all evil.”

“Does she know it’s also the home to your success?”

“She has no idea what an app is.”

Alex took a sip from his coffee, then leaned back and crossed his legs, getting comfortable. “Mom thinks I basically take a polaroid of a company, take it to another company, then show it to them. If they like the picture, they buy it.”

“Mothers!” He, too, drank coffee and reclined leisurely in his chair. “She thinks I’m getting fat from pizza.”

“What?” Alex’s view went straight to Miles’ stomach. “I can see the fucking abs from here. Through the shirt!”

“Right?” He shook his head. “She’s nuts. I love her, but it’s true.”

Alex’s eyes lingered on his stomach, only, not in a good way.

Miles frowned. “What?”

“I mean, now that you mention it…” Lines appeared on his forehead and he squinted. “The shirt does stretch a little!”

Gaping, Miles looked down in horror. “It does not!”

“Not much but—”

“It fucking doesn’t!” He’d done a hundred sit-ups just last night! If the shirt stretched, then because he’d gained muscles, not fat. Miles raised his eyes, looked over, and found Alex shaking in silent laughter. He flung the frayed napkin his way. “Moron!”

“You’re so fucking vain, it’s ridiculous!”

“You work out, too,” countered Miles huffishly. He’d seen him naked. He knew. Alex looked good naked! Very good.

“Not like that!”

“You weren’t complaining when you kissed each one of ‘em!”

Stopping in the midst of bringing the coffee to his lips, Alex met his gaze, eyes stretched open wide.

Miles was blushing. But he didn’t falter nor succumb to unease. Nose tilted high, he calmly reached for his coffee, took his time taking a sip, then placed it away with care and deliberation. “Am I wrong?”

“Fair point,” conceded Alex and laughed again. 

The sun had settled by the time they finished dinner. Two hours ago, after three coffees each, they’d left the cafe, walked for a few blocks, and somehow arrived at a little French restaurant that advertised a meal that sounded so deliciously French and tasty that they’d promptly strolled inside and ordered it.

“You know French,” Miles had pointed out. “What are we ordering?”

“Fish…something,” Alex had explained.

Sometimes, it was better not to know for certain. So, they hadn’t asked. The meal had arrived. It had looked grand and fine and it had smelled deliriously good, which was all the reason they had needed to dig in and try it.

Now, filled to the hilt and stuffed by an additional dessert, the two of them sat in their chairs, leaning back, smiling happily. “I think there was something mussels-like in there,” mused Alex.

“Don’t ruin it now,” said Miles. “Let’s just stick with the perfect memory of it.”

“Probably wise.” Alex reached for his glass of white wine and drank some. “The concert – that cover band I told you about…it’s at the end of next week. On Friday. I got tickets for us.”

“You did?” Miles didn’t know what to make of that. There was that fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach at the thought that this guy, who was a catch in any sense of the word, wanted to spend time with him. Not just any time, either. The good time. The time one usually reserved for dates. Then there was this other strange feeling, that worry that they might pretend it was nothing but a night spent as friends when, in truth, it was a date without the benefits it should come with.

Alex kept his gaze on him, patiently and full of understanding. “Don’t say ‘no’ just yet. I only told you to let you know.”

“You’re not worried, then?” Miles took a sip from his wine. “That we’ll slip?”

“Wanna know something funny? This kind of concern, I’ve never had it before.” A bemused smile clung to his lips. He seemed fascinated by it all, thought Miles. “If I wanted something, I went for it. Every instinct is telling me to go after you. To use every trick in my book to get you. But I want more than your nights. I want the morning after. And I want to be your friend, too.” Alex was staring off into the distance, now. There was a self-deprecating edge to the look on his face. “I haven’t figured out the solution to get everything that I want. So, I’ll settle for what I can have at the moment. Your friendship. And I’m determined to get that. I understand that you’re hesitating. I’ve been there, weeks ago. And I, too, thought that staying away was the way to go. But you were the one that told me you wanted to be my friend. So this is me, telling you that I want to be your friend.”

Miles took an even larger sip from his wine. And another one. What a thing to hear! What would it look like, he wondered. To watch Alex put all of his moves on him? What kind of seducer was he? The wicked kind that whispered dirty tales and lured you in with improper promises? Would he be that, or something else entirely? Would he even need to speak with hushed tones? Or would Miles drop his pants before Alex so much as said ‘hello’? Laughter escaped at that thought and he found Alex looking at him in fascination.

“What’s so funny?”

He raised his shoulders. “I’m just thinking. You seducing me? What words you’d use? What grand gestures it would include?” There was that tiredness again, that brutal exhaustion that made him forget to keep certain thoughts to himself. His cheeks warmed when he realized he’d said it out loud. “Just ignore me. My mind’s a mess at the moment.”

Alex’s hand darted out for his glass of wine. He’d ordered it ice cold and the fine crystal of the glass was coated with a sheer layer of condensed water. His index finger settled on the rim and he slowly circled the line. “You think I’d need words?” Hidden well below unfairly long lashes was a look so daring and dark that Miles swallowed at the first glimpse of it.

He was enthralled by the way Alex was playing with the wine glass. He couldn’t look away. Watched as the damp tip of his finger slowly slid down the curved bowl of it, only to settle against the epicure, where it paused, briefly. Then it sank further. Down the thin stem. In slow-motion. Past droplets of water and flickers of light that broke in the delicate and concave line of the crystal.

His mouth ran dry. He had to wet his lips. And there was some tightening in the groin that lacked all reasoning. God, how he wanted that single, mischievous finger on himself. Anywhere, no matter where!

Alex met his eyes. The hint of a smirk tugged on his lips. He placed both hands into his lap. “Would you like more?”

He swallowed again. Hard, this time. “That was more than enough!” Wiping his mouth, trying to shake off that layer of arousal that suddenly clung to his skin like dew on grass, he blinked. “I think it’s time to go to bed.”

“You’re easy.” Clearly enjoying Miles’ frazzled state, Alex waved for the waiter. “Tell me more. What should we do in bed?”

Blushing profusely and mortified because of it, Miles huffishly averted his eyes and swallowed the last of his wine in one big gulp. “You can go there and bloody fuck yourself!”

“Miles! Language.” The waiter arrived. Alex slipped his Visa into the small black booklet. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun is fucking elsewhere.” His mood began to take a hit. It annoyed him that Alex could play so easily with his wayward state of mind. It bothered him that _he_ wasn’t blushing. It tore into his nerves that he was having the time of life making fun of him while Miles was too busy not visualizing all those images that Alex painted over every warning sign he’d hung up! “Let’s go.”

“You’re no fun tonight.”

Miles marched out and didn’t care if Alex followed or not. He stomped by a few other guests, glowered frighteningly at the guy manning the restaurant’s door, and too late realized that he’d allowed Alex to pay for dinner as though this had been a bloody date and he’d been his mistress! He came to a full stop right outside the door.

“Fucking idiot!” Alex walked straight into his back. Again. “I swear you do this one more time…” Once more rubbing his chin, Alex aimed at him the kind of look that could get a hellhound to whimper in fear, and Miles had the good instinct to take a large stride backward.

“Sorry,” muttered Miles, sheepishly.

“You better be!”

“I only did it ‘cause you paid for dinner!”

The murderous look vanished. Disbelief took over. “You…what? Have you lost it?”

Had he? Maybe. Miles blew out a frustrated breath, turned back around, and proceeded down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of his apartment. “You shouldn’t have paid for me.”

“For dinner?” asked Alex, again. Incredulous. “Like you’ve done before?”

“It was different, then.”

“Different how?” There was an edge to Alex’s tone that bothered Miles.

“That was before sex. This is after sex.”

“Everybody, and by that, I do mean everybody who has ever said that women are complicated has never met you before! If they did, they’d drop their knees and beg that entire gender for forgiveness!”

“I’m being serious!”

“That’s the worst part,” bit Alex. “Let me get this straight. You don’t want me to pay for dinner because of…what? Think I’ll be expecting sex now? Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind it. And you definitely need it!”

Miles tossed him a glare that came with a trail of sharp knives, hooks, and silver bullets.

“All that tenseness that you carry around. Some good old fucking would do you wonders right now!”

“Fucking stop, Alex!”

“Or what? Will you punch me or kiss me?”

“Is this your goal? To provoke a reaction?”

“My goal was to have a nice evening with you. And we had, for the most part.” He patted his pockets, then pulled his cigarettes from one of ‘em. Lit himself one. “Look, I don’t know what went wrong. I thought things went well. Yet, here you are, pissed off at me for some reason. Explain it to me!”

He searched his own pockets for cigarettes, but couldn’t find them. “Give me one!”

Alex raised a brow. “I might want a blow-job for that!”

Miles’ jaw ticked.

Alex shook his head with a sigh. He held up the cigarettes, drawling, “Please. Have one.”

“Thank you,” gritted Miles through clenched teeth. He lit it up, inhaled deeply, and let the weight of the heavy smoke settle into his lungs. A nasty habit this was. He was well aware of it. But a man had to have a nasty habit of some kind. Others were assholes, he just smoked. Though, Alex might argue that asshole-part. Bit by bit and smoke by smoke, he gained little bits of control over his emotions and began to calm down. Spotting a bench nearby, he walked there and sat down. That tiredness that he’d been carrying around all day began to become unbearable and he could feel his shoulders aching underneath the crushing burden of it. Fingers went to the top buttons of his shirt and he undid them.

Alex sat down next to him. “You looked exhausted before but…now?” He was no longer joking. Miles could hear that genuine concern in his voice. The same one he’d heard from Doreen yesterday when she’d told him to take today off. “Shall I call a cab? We should have taken my car. But it’s still parked at Harrods.”

A vague and appreciative smile crossed his face. “Thanks, but…no thanks. I just…” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “The last two weeks were hard. I’ve been working nonstop and – it’s my fault, however. The moment I get home and walk into by bedroom, I get hit by memories of you and me and… Anyway. I hide at work. I sleep on my couch. I wake up and start all over again. None of this is your fault. I apologize for being a dick all night. It’s just…you’re there, joking about it and I’m here, wishing I could do the same, but I can’t.”

After a while, Alex spoke up. “I joke about it because it would drive me insane if I didn’t.” He said it quietly, admitting, “I went shopping with my mother to avoid sitting in my office, daydreaming about what we did. And I flirt with you ‘cause I can’t bloody help myself! The difference is, I sleep well. I…” Alex chuckled fleetingly. Shook his head. “I look forward to the memories that come at night. They’re all I have.”

Miles opened his eyes again and sought out Alex’s. It was dark. A few streetlights here and there cast the bench in a dim amber light no stronger than a few candles’ worths.

“I know that being friends is hard. And I’m asking a lot from you. But it’s as tough for me. I just don’t think that not being friends is going to make this any easier for either of us. We know that we can’t do it again. We’re still in control of our actions, are we not? So, we won’t do it again. But I miss talking to you. Laughing with you. Gossiping about our mothers with you.” Alex grinned.

Miles, too, laughed at that.

“I miss your pool.”

More laughter. “Ah,” concluded Miles. “That’s what it’s all about then.” A sly smirk lit on his face. “My pool.”

“Why else would I want you?” Alex bumped his shoulder. “For that pizza belly of yours?”

He’d been on the verge of a brutal headache a moment ago, but right now, he was beginning to ease up and relax. Maybe he had been too caught up in everything. Maybe he needed to take things a little lighter. Worry less. He’d never much worried before, had he? So, why start now?

Alex stood up with a yawn, stretched, and gazed into the dark sky. “There’s a new bakery across my office. Makes insane muffins. I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Would you like to join me? Say around eight?”

“Breakfast muffins?”

“They do bagels, too.” He held out his hand. “Come on up!”

Miles took his hand and even though it was a touch that tingled and sparkled and made him want to do all sorts of forbidden things it was also warm and nice and reassuring. He curled his hand around Alex’s and allowed him to drag his heavy bones off the bench. “Sounds good.”

“Perfect.”

Alex took the first step down the sidewalk and Miles followed silently. He was half-asleep and if it weren’t for Alex, he might have crashed at one of the few hotels they passed on their way home. Every step was a small fight. His limbs were stiff. His concentration was gone. He was actually glad there was very little traffic left that he had to watch out for. And he was even more satisfied by the fact that there was nary a person out on the streets. Alex still held onto his hand and Miles would have hated to let go of it, just to avoid the nosy stares of strangers.

After a few more blocks, they arrived in front of Miles’ apartment complex and Alex’s fingers slipped away. Neither one said a word about it. It was a secret of this odd night of theirs. Something that had happened in darkness. Something that might have been nothing but a vision trick or mere imagination. Leaning against the brick wall of the building, Alex kept his eyes on Miles. “See you tomorrow.”

He could scarcely keep his eyes open, but he kept them open for him. “Yes.”

“Night, Miles.”

“Night, Alex.”

Miles slipped inside, hesitantly, even though he physically ached for his bed and some sleep. But his gaze lingered on Alex, who kept by the door, waiting and watching as Miles made his path through the revolving doors of the lobby, then further, to the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors chimed close that Miles lost sight of him. He closed his eyes and promptly found him there.

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 10 **

#

Miles crossed his arms as he placed his butt against the open trunk of Alex’s pristinely clean Aston Martin SUV. “I’m making a list of demands. You’re not going to fool me again! I want one cheesecake for every single flower that I have to move or plant today. I want a fucking huge steak for the rose bush. And I’ll let you know what I want for the hole!” 

Alex sputtered a snort. “That sounds rotten!”

A dry look from Miles. “You bet.” 

#

“Does it hurt?” He’d whispered it, unaware and unintended.

Miles moved his head just barely, from left to right. Once, then back.

The air was growing thick between them. He’d crossed a line, Alex knew. This touch wasn’t his to take. He was stealing it. But he, thief that he was, wanted more and not less. His thumb lingered, far from satisfied.

Penny came back out.

Alex dropped his hand fast.

#


	10. Let's Dig Us A Hole

#Chapter 10 Let’s Dig Us A Hole

They had done bagels every morning for the past week. Like clockwork. At eight. The first time, it had been a set date. Each consecutive one after that was agreed upon without words, looks or any other gesture. It was simply understood. It was their thing now. They’d stay at the little bakery for roughly half an hour, catch up, drink a coffee and eat a bagel. They’d fill each other in about the upcoming events of their day, they’d chat about Doreen or Janine, who’d both become very curious about their morning activities, and they’d make plans for later in the day.

They’d gone out four times in the last six days. Saturday and Sunday, they hadn’t, but that was because Miles had been stuck at the outskirts of the city, baking endlessly with his mother while sipping gallons of tea from her new set, which she’d brought along to London just to show him. Once she left for Liverpool Sunday night, she’d placed them carefully into her big suitcase and wrapped them up tightly into vast amounts of newspapers, paper towels and two Hermes silk scarfs that were now crinkled beyond repair.

Alex knew because Miles had filmed it and immediately sent it to him. After Pauline had left and Miles had slipped into the back of his Audi, he’d called Alex and they’d talked for the entire duration of his ride home.

That friendship of theirs was finally getting somewhere, it appeared. Alex couldn’t be happier. They still strictly avoided confined spaces and each other’s apartments, but other than that, they were doing increasingly fine.

He’d had his doubts, especially after their fight at the end of that marvelous French fish-dinner they’d shared. Miles had seemed at the end of his capacities and Alex had been more than worried that he’d pushed him too far. They were different. He knew. Alex tended to accept things and move on, taking life as it was and making the best of what was given. Miles, on the other hand, easily got stuck on things. He fretted too much. They’d managed to speak openly about it all and that had been a great first step. But then Alex had slipped up. He’d held hands with him and, naturally, he’d feared he’d basically gifted Miles with yet another reason to keep his distance. But Miles hadn’t done that.

He'd been beyond relieved.

An emotion that was now quickly slipping through his fingers, much like the last crumbles of the cookie he was eating. “Damnit,” he cursed as his eyes landed on his phone and the new message that was displayed.

Miles, stabbing a fork hungrily into his piece of strawberry cheesecake, looked up, brows curved. “What’s wrong?”

It was Tuesday and both had met for a well-deserved late afternoon trip to their bakery for a quick sugar fix. “It’s from Caroline. Mom gave her my number, told her I’m single and desperately trying to find a woman to have children with. And as it turns out,” bemoaned Alex, “her ex-husband being unwilling to procreate with her was the reason Caroline filed for divorce.”

Almost choking on the cake, Miles sputtered a laugh and some coughs. “Poor you! What did you say to her?”

“Um…” Alex nudged his phone towards him, sheepishly. He wasn’t all that good in handling emotional situations that involved his annoyed self and a freshly divorced stranger who kept succumbing to giggles each time he looked into her eyes and he had an unshakable notion he’d handled it abysmally. “Kinda…nothing?”

Miles frowned, read the message, and shook his head. “Alex!”

Well. Not nothing. He might have told her to meet for coffee. But only because Caroline had practically ambushed him in his office when she’d arrived there with his mother. He’d have gladly told her that he was busy, or already set for a date with somebody. He wouldn’t even have minded playing dead for a few days, to avoid crushing her hopes. His mother hadn’t let him, though. She’d taken over the talking. She’d suggested a candlelight dinner and out of desperation, Alex had quickly suggested doing coffee instead, an offer Caroline had been lighting fast to accept. It was only after his mother and Caroline had left that it occurred to him that Penny Turner had played him.

Completely.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Be honest?” Miles unlocked Alex’s phone and flipped through the rest of his conversation with the woman. “Oh no, you replied each time?”

Well, yes? She’d been texting him all day, offering cafe-options and proposing a possible dinner. He’d been polite but as dismissive as he could be without being outright rude.

Miles gaped as he read on. “Um…” He met Alex’s confused eyes. “When you text that, er, you – let me quote you – ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you’, you do realize that comes across invitingly. Right?”

“What?” Alex had tried to be nice. “It’s a polite way to express one’s hope for a…” He watched as Miles’ brows arched higher and higher. He sighed desolately. “God, what have I done! What should I have done?!”

“How about, ‘thank you, but no thank you’.”

“Where were you this morning when I needed you, huh?”

“At work,” countered Miles. “Being an expert in precisely this!” He chuckled. “We’re about to introduce quick-replies on our app and one of the scenarios we discussed—”

“Don’t say it!”

Miles laughed loudly. “Exactly this! We had veritable experts on conversation-style and psychologists in that meeting. Oh, Alex! If only I had known. This could have been a perfect example for the app!”

“Bloody stop, alright?” He lowered his head into his hands. “Help me out here!”

“I don’t see how!” Miles reached over, grabbed one of his hands, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “When you go out later, remember. Always bring flowers!”

Glaring at him, not pulling his hand away, however, Alex snorted. “Not going out. Oh, I got it! I’m sick! And it’s not even a lie ‘cause I got a very real headache right now!”

“Tsk, don’t do that!”

“Do what? Lie for a good cause?”

With his free hand, Miles grabbed Alex’s phone. “Wuss!”

Alex observed as he began typing. All with one hand. He still held on to his with the other and he’d be damned before he did anything to make him let go. It felt nice having him hold his hand like that. Soft fingers curled around his palm. His thumb rested lightly against his little finger. A gentle warmth floated from it and he relished it. 

“There.” Miles put the phone back down.

Curious, Alex read what Miles had typed. And sent, as it turned out. “‘Dear Caroline,’” he recited out loud, warily eyeing his friend before continuing, “‘I’m saddened to inform you that I can’t take you out for coffee. Today, my heart was taken by surprise at the arrival of an old love of mine. I cannot, in good conscience, go out with you while the strings of my heart are still tied to somebody else.’” A deeply roaring scoff filled the air. “Bloody hell, Miles! Where’d you steal that line from?”

“Here and there,” he quipped, smirking. “But the strings-part is from one of those sappy romance novels that Lena leaves lying around all over the apartment.”

“And just ‘cause it, let’s say, sits on a couch or a table, you read the book?” Laughter began to burst free. “Romance novels, like bodice-rippers?” He was shaking now. Teary-eyed. He was imagining Miles as he sat on his couch, munching cookies and reading gaudy and ridiculous novels about long-haired pirates and damsels in distress.

“Hey, I just did you a favor! Be nice.” That free hand of his resumed its hold on the fork and Miles made quick work of the remainder of his cheesecake, which saddened Alex greatly, since he’d gotten his hopes up that Miles might be full and willing to part with the rest. As soon as the last crumble was eaten, he licked his lips and smiled sunnily at him. “Now what? You in a hurry to get back?”

“To the office? Never.” Alex’s attention needed longer than intended to let go of Miles’ sweet lips and the latter noticed. With red-hued cheeks, he pulled his fingers away from him, leaving Alex’s hand feeling cold and abandoned. He sighed it away. “Um…actually, there was something that I wanted to discuss. Cake and coffee are on me, by the way.”

Miles' brows flew up.

Alex grinned. “I know we had plans tomorrow. Movie and dinner and then drinks… My mother called. She told me a very long-winded story about some neighbor and God knows what else.” The mere memory of it made his eyes roll. “Anyway. She got a huge rose bush now and she needs me to dig a hole so she can plant it.”

“And,” guessed Miles, “you need to do that tomorrow?”

“Yes. But, as I said, it’s a huge rose bush. One that needs a really, really big hole.” Alex directed a pointed look at him.

One that Miles quickly caught and redirected. “What fortunate thing, then, that I happen to be very busy tomorrow!”

“You’re not,” objected Alex. “You’re available. Help me out!”

“See, this friendship that we have, it’s not working to my advantage. I heaved furniture for you, supplied you with a pool and you now you want me to dig. In the blistering heat. For your mother!”

“Look at it this way, your mother will love hearing about your generous contribution to my mother’s garden. And I will make up for it!”

“How?”

“Ideas come to mind,” jested Alex slyly. Somehow, during the span of the last week, they’d managed to slip the occasional little flirt back into their chats without succumbing to awkwardness.

“Naughty! Stop it.”

“That’s your dirty mind. You don’t know what’s on mine!” The things that were on Alex’s mind far exceeded the definitions of dirty. And naughty. “I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“Fine,” caved Miles.

“Thank you!” Alex turned away from him and dug through his jacket pocket for his wallet. “She’d also like a few red geraniums to match the bush, so we’ll have to pick those up on the way. Would you like another piece of cake or coffee?”

“I’d like you to look me in the eyes and say it again,” Miles told him.

Alex raised one shoulder. “What’s the big deal? One little stop at a flower shop. I’ll drive. Bring work or music or a book. Come on!”

Miles rolled his eyes.

“That dirt will ruin my trunk!”

Miles snorted. “That’s the part that worries you? Forty fucking geraniums but some dirt freaks you out? How fucking big is that tiny little flower bed that we’re supposed to dig, huh?”

Alex looked away. “Not that big.”

“Well, is it empty or—”

Alex fully faced away from him, now. He spotted a bee and watched it buzz around as it enjoyed its freedom. He envied it.

Miles gripped his shoulder and slowly twisted him around. Concern laced with a warning echoed in his voice. “Alex?”

“Well…maybe, there’s a rhododendron in there that we—” His eyes met Miles’ simmering ones. “Oh, for crying out loud! Didn’t you tell me you planned on taking a trip to the gym today? Consider it free workout!”

Miles crossed his arms as he placed his butt against the open trunk of Alex’s pristinely clean Aston Martin SUV. “I’m making a list of demands. You’re not going to fool me again! I want one cheesecake for every single flower that I have to move or plant today. I want a fucking huge steak for the rose bush. And I’ll let you know what I want for the hole!”

Alex sputtered a snort. “That sounds rotten!”

A dry look from Miles. “You bet.”

“Move your ass aside. Let’s pack and get on.” As they put the flower trays inside, Alex ignored the dirt crumps that he began to suspect Miles deliberately dropped in his perfectly vacuumed trunk. He had other things to focus on, at any rate. Improper and wildly suggestive images of Miles and a certain hole that he was dying to get into again!

“Done.” Miles took the last tray from him, placed it down, and met his eyes warily. “Alex?”

He snapped out of it. “Yes, done!”

“Any other stops we need to make?”

“Nope. Let’s get this over with.”

They had the foresight to bring an extra set of clothes and for that, Alex was beyond grateful. He gave the shovel a solid push and felt the impact in every last fiber of his muscles. He’d be sore for a solid week, of that he had no doubt! His arms were stained with dirt up to his shoulders, sweat was running down his back and his face, and the only upside was that Miles suffered from the same fate, but dirty, sweaty Miles was a hot sight to see, and therefore, Alex endured. “Deep enough, right?” He wiped his wet face and blew out a breath.

Miles nodded as he reached for his water. “Should make do.” He drank some and as he did, droplets made it past the neck of the bottle, curling through sticky sweat that had mingled with bits of soil, leaving behind unsteady paths that led from his chin all the way down his throat, until they hid inside the ruined vest that he wore.

Alex licked his dry lips, tore his lusting gaze away, and stretched his back. Then he climbed out of the four feet deep hole and reached for the massive rose bush that he’d imagined had the size of an acoustic guitar and ended up being a minor oak tree.

“Careful, thorns,” warned Miles.

Too late. “Fuck, damnit!” Alex flinched, inspected the scratch on his arm, and decided to ignore it. “Not going to armor up for this monster!” He wanted to be done with it. The heat, the digging, Miles’ sexiness – shit was beginning to get to him! “Give me a hand!”

With careful moves, they maneuvered the thorny monstrosity into its new habitat.

“Looks nice,” remarked Miles, nodding in approval. “For a rose bush.”

Alex laughed. “Solid compliment!”

“I prefer fruit trees!” A grin lit Miles’ face as he went to work filling the hole up again. “No thorns, plenty of fruit.”

Back at the shovel, Alex glanced at him curiously. “You got any? Like, trees?”

“At my parents’ house.”

“Liverpool or the big fat mansion?”

Chuckling. “Big fat mansion. Planted ‘em myself. Two apple trees and two cherry trees.”

“Seriously?” He was stunned to hear. “So, you’re into gardening?”

“Not by a long shot. But I got bored one spring and I spent a lot of time here. So, I got me some trees and went to work. Planted only one of each at first, but there was no fruit. Naturally. Got two more. Apples are great. But I’ve yet to pick some cherries. Birds are faster than me!”

Alex was stuck on the image of Miles, picking apples in the summer. “Why two of each?” he wondered absentmindedly.

A smirk from Miles. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“Sex,” laughed Miles. “Trees need cross-pollination!”

No longer shoveling, Alex was staring blankly now. “Okay, first you throw a hissy fit for having to help me and now you’re telling me you’re an orchard expert? You?”

Miles stopped, too, bringing a hand to his chest. “Okay, first, ouch! And second, hey! My interests are very diverse.” He shoveled on. “I’ve painted a cupboard once since it looked bad. I know how to fix a car. I don’t know how to drive it, but whatever. And I did not throw a hissy fit! I simply protested.”

Alex fell into sync with him. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive or anything. It’s just…you got this air to you. You’re smooth and successful and rich and you love the city. You thrive in it, it seems. It’s weird picturing you picking bloody fruits off a tree.”

“Would you have imagined me digging a hole with you when we first met? Because, if you’d told me you’d swing a shovel, I’d have laughed my ass off!”

“True.” Amusement clung to his face now. It was strange. There was this idea of Miles that he had in his head. However, the more time he spent with him, the less the idea held up. He was different. Far more complex than he’d thought. Full of opposing traits. Alex was suddenly eager to discover all of his sides. All angles. Everything that went unnoticed to the flippant eye.

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” asked Miles. “You got any hobbies that will make me laugh?”

More chuckling from Alex. “No, I doubt that. Although, I did try to knit once. Lost a bet against my mom years ago. Never went anywhere. I do like books.”

“I didn’t know that,” admitted Miles. “What books?”

“Nothing particular. A bit of everything, I guess. None of your steamy little novels!”

“Mock me but know this: They’re educational!”

“Are they now? What do you learn from ‘em? How to save long-haired princesses from evil captivation?” His brow quirked. “How to batter your lashes to land a duke?”

“How cross-pollination works,” declared Miles, smirking. When Alex burst into laughter, Miles followed suit.

“Oh boys,” gushed Penny Turner in awe as she inspected a hard day’s worth of shoveling, planting, and sweating. “Marvelous. It looks splendid. Well done! Thank you both so very much. How can I make up for this? Oh, would you like a bite to eat? How does a nice vegetable lasagna sound? Or tomato soup?”

Alex, still drenched in sweat and covered in dirt, flung a mean glare at Miles, who promptly jumped for cover by sidling up to Penny.

“Actually.” Miles dimpled his cheeks and smiled sweetly at the blushing woman. “Lasagna with meat sounds much more delicious. Burgers would be fine, too.”

“Any sort of meat, really,” added Alex, surreptitiously nodding at Miles in approval, for his wise idea to bring proper food back to the menu.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” She glanced from one to the other, then back. “Oh fine. There are some burgers in the fridge, I think. You two clean up and I’ll get to work.” Her nose scrunched as she sniffed at Alex, who quickly grimaced in disapproval.

Penny cringed as well. “You really need to clean up!”

“Yes, mother. Hard work does stink.” He met Miles’ crinkling eyes and grinned. “Come on. Bathroom is that way. Take the guest room. It’s got its own.”

“Leave the shoes outside,” Penny called after them. “Take pity on the carpet!”

Halfway through the door already, Alex kicked his shoes off, while holding onto Miles’ shoulders for support. “Yes, Mi,” he mocked, “the poor carpet!”

“Dear God!” Miles pretended to be mortally concerned. “How can we dare?”

They were laughing all the way up the stairs. Alex didn’t let of Miles’ shoulders. One hand clung to it the whole time, even when Miles bent down at the foot of the staircase, to grab his bag. It just rested there, lightly, but unflinchingly. The skin felt sticky and underneath his fingertips, he felt the fine corns of the soil spoiling the smoothness that he knew hid beneath all that dirt. How he’d love to scrub it from him. “That way.” He guided him to his left. “Last door. Towels should be there. Meet you downstairs in a bit.” Letting go of him felt strikingly hard, much harder than digging and refilling the hole had been.

Alex was the first to arrive downstairs. Carrying a large glass of ice-cold water, he took a hefty swig, noticed the three plates, and frowned. “Where’s dad tonight?”

Penny looked up from the barbeque grill. Cooking and grilling were her resorts. And she was a master at both. That, Alex admitted without hesitation. It was just the choices that she made that could be a bit too far on the experimental side. Like the tofu-thing. “Playing cards with the neighbors,” she told him.

“Ah.” He sat down in one of the large lawn chairs and got comfortable.

Penny sat down next to him. “I watched you today. You and Miles, you’re friends now. Quite good ones, too, from the looks of it.”

Uneasiness befell him. Shit. Had he slipped up? Had she caught him staring at Miles’ fine muscles that he’d flexed so often today? Had she caught him glancing at his ass? He’d worn tight jeans earlier and they’d offered him a perfect view! Eyes carefully aimed ahead, away from her, Alex hid behind the glass of water and sipped more. “So?”

“No, no,” said Penny. “I’m not complaining! Dear God, no! I’m happy about it.” Her hand gave him arm a gentle squeeze. “You laughed a lot. Been a bit since I saw you so happy. For a long while, you seemed a little lost. Lonely and—”

Alex protested quickly. “Mom—”

“No, let me say this. I was worried about you. Those supposed friends of yours…we both know you barely tolerate them. But I can tell that you like Miles. And I merely wanted to express my happiness over that. I’m glad you found each other.”

With a heavy sigh, he faced her. “I’m glad, too.” Which was more than true. He had a feeling that whatever it was that drew him and Miles together, wasn’t all that common. Rare, rather. He had certainly never experienced it before. “I do like him.” If he was fully honest with himself, he did a bit more than just _like_ him.

“Talking about liking somebody…” She let go of his arm and grabbed his hand. The touch was no longer gentle, and he winced at the sudden, yet striking pain.

“Ow, mom!”

“What nonsense did Sheila tell me, Alexander? What old love of yours are these strings tied to? Well?”

“Er…” Damn that woman! “Listen—” He was on the verge of spinning an elaborate net of lies, to distract from his failure of being unable to suffer through a simple coffee date when it occurred to him that he was the victim in this story! “It’s your fault!”

Penny blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You set me up!”

“Yes,” she admitted without remorse. “I did—” Her focus shifted away from him and towards the patio door. “Miles!”

A dangerous smile made it up her face and Alex wanted to warn Miles, but he couldn’t possibly when his mother sat right fucking next to him. Penny patted the seat to her left. Alex pointedly looked at the chair next to himself.

Miraculously, Miles caught on and sat down right to Alex. “Is everything alright?” A wary and timid smile sat on his lips and his eyes wandered curiously from Alex to Penny, then back again. “Should I go back inside?” From the sound of it, he clearly wanted to run and hide.

Alex tossed him a fierce glare and mouthed, ‘Stay!’

Penny straightened in her chair. “Alex told me that the two of you have become quite good friends?”

“That is…true?” Miles kept one eye on Alex and one on Penny. “He’s nice and funny and— What am I missing here?”

“Caroline got the strangest text yesterday. Did you know that my darling boy has rediscovered an old love of his? Well, as it so happens, I did not know that he had a love that could recapture his heart. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

Oh, the things Alex would give for a rock to hide under.

Miles suddenly sported a stunning look of ease. He leaned back, amazing Alex with the self-assured way in which he did so. “Oh, that!” A little laugh. “Yes! We were out for coffee, yesterday. I was in the midst of presenting Alex with a long and well-researched list of possible women to go out with. He was so in awe of all that hard trouble that I had gone through that he felt miserable for dismissing it in favor of Caroline. I told him that the poor woman just got divorced and maybe it’d be good for her to focus on herself for a bit. I fear it was my fault he told her that little white lie. But he only did it so he could give his entire attention to all those candidates that I chose for him. All great matches! Lovely, similar in age, willing to have children…”

“All of ‘em?” asked Penny, interested.

Miles nodded, matching her serious approach. “Indeed.”

Alex bit his tongue from succumbing to laughter. He had to give it to Miles – that guy knew how to sell bullshit! It was probably why he was so damn successful! Maybe he should hire him to do some of the selling for him!

“Oh well, maybe you’re right about Caroline.” Penny got up, tossed a quick look at the grill, then made her way inside. “Would you like something to drink, Miles?”

“Water would be nice.”

“We got wine as well.”

He shrugged.

Alex looked at her thirstily. “I’d like wine, too.”

“Don’t you have to drive later?”

A low laugh from Miles.

Alex grumbled. “Water is fine.”

“Water is fine for me as well,” added Miles, swallowing the amusement and meeting Alex’s eyes in sympathy.

Penny walked inside.

Alex sank deeper into his chair. “The moment we get home, I need a drink! Please tell me you got cigarettes on you!”

Miles handed them over.

“Fucking thank you!”

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

Once Alex had his cigarette lit, Miles took one and did the same. “So…” He crossed his legs and beamed his way. “You like me, huh?”

Slowly, Alex blew out a billowing cloud of smoke, turned his gaze upward, and took in the languidly settling sun. “You heard that?”

“I did.”

“What else did you hear?”

“That bit about your friends.”

Alex felt his eyes on him. Felt the curiosity. The burning question on the tip of Miles’ tongue, the one he didn’t utter but desperately wanted to. “I’m not lonely, alright? I was never one to seek friendships or whatever. I was busy in the last couple of years.”

“I’m not judging, Alex.” Miles spoke softly, “I guess I feel honored. You let me in.”

He gave up on the sunset and looked at Miles, instead. He was much more fascinating, anyway. With his sparkling eyes, his little dimples, his ever-present smile and his bright red cheeks. A grin shot to Alex’s face when he spotted the latter. “You got a sunburn on your cheeks!” His hand moved up and his thumb reached out, brushing the crimson ever so lightly. “Does it hurt?” He’d whispered it, unaware and unintended.

Miles moved his head just barely, from left to right. Once, then back.

The air was growing thick between them. He’d crossed a line, Alex knew. This touch wasn’t his to take. He was stealing it. But he, the thief that he was, wanted more and not less. His thumb lingered, far from satisfied.

Penny came back out.

Alex dropped his hand fast. He grabbed his glass of water, busied himself with drinking, and as he felt the cold liquid making its way down that dry, almost sandpapery throat of his, he decided he’d steal again. The night was young. Ripe with chances. And the look in Miles’ eyes was too inviting to resist. There was no objection there. No disparagement. Nothing that indicated Miles’ discomfort. If anything, there was a dare lurking in the shadows cast by his lashes. Close to invisible. Almost.

“Smoking?” Penny scoffed with disdain. “Not in my house!”

“We’re outside,” remarked Alex, too distracted by Miles’ lack of protest to his criminal ideas to pay closer attention to her. That mistake he regretted instantly when Penny filched the cigarette from his lips.

“No. Smoking.”

Miles didn’t need to be told separately. He instantly killed the butt. Eyes let go of Alex’s and he met Penny’s, now. “Sorry!”

“Yes,” added Alex, cheekily. “Sorry.”

She shook her head, but let it go. “Burgers are done. Who is hungry?”

His mother had gone to bed an hour ago. Alex knew that he and Miles ought to be back in the city by now. It was the middle of the week. There was plenty of work to be done tomorrow. Meetings, phone calls, decisions, the kind of work that demanded focus and concentration, which, in return, required sleep and a rested mind. But as he sat there on the patio, snuggled deeply into the wide lawn chair, absentmindedly listening to the melodic chirping crickets hiding in the tall grass that had so far escaped the senior Turners’ merciless blowtorch, Alex couldn’t bring himself to care. And as long as Miles made no effort to leave, he’d keep his butt firmly planted where it was.

“Did you ever try to quit?”

Miles’ words drew Alex to look at him and he found Miles glancing at the pack of cigarettes resting on the table. They had yet to smoke again and even though his mother was no doubt asleep by now, he, too, was reluctant to try his luck. “Countless times!”

“Me, too.” Miles reached up and traced the outlines of that box of Marlboros. The small package moved around with each slide that his finger made. “It’s never the beginning that puts me off. Most people say the first days are the hardest. Not for me.” His hand dropped from the table and he briefly caught Alex’s gaze. “I’m always good in the early days. I’m motivated and full of conviction. And just when I think I’ve done it, I give in.”

“A reward, in a sense?” Eyes back on the lawn, Alex softly smiled. “You allow yourself to have a taste of the one thing you don’t want yet crave more than anything.” He was much like him, in that regard. “Quitting is vicious. Never-ending and—”

“A fool’s game,” finished Miles. He slipped his fingers between Alex’s, interlacing them.

Alex still looked off into the distance, but no longer unmindfully. He was clinging to that vista now, fixating on it. If he stopped doing that, he’d become aware of that bone-rattling tingle that filled every last corner of his body. If he allowed himself to do so, his breathing would turn shallow and shaky and that would lead to Miles figuring out just how greatly his chaste touch was affecting him. If Alex moved now, to meet Miles’ eyes, he’d lose the fight and steal more than a bit of contact, as he’d done earlier. He’d end up greedy and audacious. He’d end up stealing a kiss.

And he didn’t want to steal that.

Some things had to be given freely.

“I’m so fucking late!” Alex ran from the kitchen to his room upstairs, then back down to the patio, desperately trying to find his phone.

He’d fucking fallen asleep in the damn lawn chair last night and Miles, great friend that he was, had not woken him up. He’d fallen asleep as well. Out of solidarity, he’d quipped this morning, when Penny had woken them up. “Fucking hell, where is it?”

“Where’s what?” Miles leaned with his hip against the kitchen counter, a relaxed look on his face and a tall mug of coffee clutched in his hands.

“My fucking phone,” barked Alex, impatient. “Damnit!”

Miles dared to smirk and Alex felt himself on the verge of exploding. “This isn’t funny,” he snarled. “Why are you looking at me like that? Here’s a novel idea – help me find it!”

“Check your back pocket.”

“My—” Alex did. And silently cursed. Right, he’d put it there earlier, while trying to recall where he’d placed his car keys. Oh no! Shit! Where did he put those? Hands resumed patting his other pockets. Panic befell him.

“Keys,” remarked Miles dryly, “are here.” He held them up. “Your phone is in your pocket. I already put our bags in the trunk. We’re good to go, Alex.”

“Let’s fucking go, then. Bye, mom. Call you later!”

“Bye boys,” she called after him.

Before long, they were on the road, headed back to the center of London. “What’s with you this morning?” Miles was curled into the wide, eggshell-colored leather seat of Alex’s car, clearly scraping the last bits of leisure out of these earlier hours before the hectic chaos of a Thursday morning workday would resume its hold on both. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Just stressed.” Now, that they were in the car, making headway, he began to ease up. But there was a ferocious tenseness that clung to him, one that even took him by surprise.

“I should have woken you up last night.” Miles wasn’t looking at him. That much, Alex could tell. But his gaze drifted over him now and then, with a vague smile resting leisurely on his face. Not amused. Rather, apologetically.

He wanted to put his mind at ease, tell him it was his own fault for stupidly falling asleep. But he was too distracted by the thickness in Miles’ voice, that scratchy layer, raspy and horse, sleepy almost. It sounded awfully intimate, vulnerable even. A tone not meant for a friend. It was one somebody might hear in the earliest of the morning, in bed, right after waking up.

Alex tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “’tis alright.”

Miles’ gaze landed on Alex’s hand. Alex could tell. He could not say how, or why, but he felt it. And it made him swallow. He wanted him to reach out and entwine their fingers again, as he’d done last night. He wanted to stop the bloody car, lunge for his head and give him the kind of kiss that said ‘good morning’ better than any spoken expression ever could.

He wanted to tell him that he’d been unprepared to wake up next to him, despite having done so sitting two feet away, in his own chair. He wanted to explain to him that he’d been rattled to find his mother shaking his shoulder, informing him he’d be late for work while she hadn’t mentioned – and _he_ had refused to acknowledge – the fact that he’d still held on to Miles’ hand.

He wanted to let him know that he, too, was struggling hard with the limitations of their friendship.

But he couldn’t do any of that, because, just as Alex snuck a quick look at him, Miles’ soft snoring filled the quietness of the car. A small smile grew on Alex’s lips and he nodded to himself, conceding that, maybe, some things were better kept to one’s self.

.

. 

** Spoiler Chapter 11 **

#

Miles’ arm rested loosely around Alex’s shoulder as he inspected, with a level for detail that entirely startled him, a gold-rimmed champagne flute that cost more than the crocodile leather belt that he was wearing in this very moment. 

Alex was lost in the hilarity of it, shaking against his side as he tried avoiding the curious stares of the sales employees of Harrods. “How on earth did we wind up here, huh?”

“By sheer luck!”

#

“Or not,” declared Miles. “That flirty Frenchman from earlier was enough for the day.” Too late he noticed that upon uttering the word ‘flirty’ he’d given Alex’s hand a gentle squeeze. And as he mentally berated himself for being way too proprietary, it entered his mind that it might as well be a good idea to let go of his hand altogether, given the fact that Alex was not his boyfriend and that strolling around with entwined fingers in the midst of motherfucking _Harrods_ was dumb, to say the least.

He let go, took a step to his left, and pretended not to see how hurriedly Alex’s high spirits went away. “I’m taking this one.” The frilly, lime green set, if nothing else, fit the unique and – in his mind disturbing – floral tapestry of his parents’ bedroom. 

“Green?” Alex cringed

“Turner!” 

The cringe grew to its full capacity. “Fuck!”

#


	11. A Very French Day

“Next one,” dismissed Miles sternly, as he directed a spare bit of his attention to Doreen, who hovered in his doorway, notebook in hand. “Anything from Lena?”

“No call yet. I told you I’d let you know—”

“As soon as she gives you a call. Yes, yes,” said Miles, patience stretched thin. “Got it.” He looked at two more pictures. “Horrible. Next. I want something that is less… _that_!” He gestured at the gruesome nightmare of a couch and cringed. “I want leather. Nothing that requires lint rollers!”

“Ooh,” lamented the French mid-thirties guy, who’d arrived wearing a scarf and a beret in the middle of fucking July, pulling his brow into the shape of a bloody diacritic. “Leather is not very modern.” His thick accent scraped on Miles’ tolerance like nails on a chalkboard. “Have you considered velvet? Or…” He scrolled through seemingly endless supplies of images on his iPad. “I have a magnificent sofa on hold that it upholstered with the remains of some old oriental carpets that once served a veritable Persian prince?” He landed on the image and held up the device. “Quelle magnifique occasion nous avons là?”

Miles raised his eyes, a stoic expression on his face. “What’s that?”

Behind Doreen, who warily observed the scene, the familiar sounds of Alex’s laughter appeared. “He’s trying to sell you some smelly carpet for a shit load of money!” 

He’d gotten that part! It was the French mumbles that he struggled with. 

“You are?” The interior designer, whom Miles did not ask for, but who had appeared after he’d made a flippant remark to Doreen about the possibility of a new couch, directed his entire four-hundred-Pound Sterling per-hour attention to the non-paying guy that stepped into the office. “Oh la!” His eyes roamed Alex’s body approvingly. “C’est _Ives Saint Laurent?_ Oui?”

Alex, undeniably amused, tipped his head toward Miles. “He’s the money. Not me.” 

Miles rolled his eyes as he slouched further into his chair, burying his face into his hand. “Enough with the French, ey? I want a leather couch. A big, black, fucking comfortable leather couch that’s available and – preferably – new and not made out of some dead prince’s former belongings! For crying out loud, try Ikea!” 

“Ikea?” The French gasped soundly to express his mortally offended feelings. “Merde!”

Miles gave Alex the most helpless pleading look he could muster. One that said, _please, oh please, get rid of him_! 

Alex, taking pity on him, cleared his throat and walked further into the office until his hip rested against Miles’ desk. He crossed his arms. “Très bien, il est temps d'y aller.”

“C'est dommage car ça commençait à être intéressant,” said the guy whose name Miles had forgotten as soon as Doreen had mentioned it. He winked at Alex.

Miles stiffened. His brow shot up in warning and he decided to glare a little, just for good measure. Frenchie was getting a bit too flirty with his friend.

“Au revoir,” said Alex. 

Doreen took care of the rest and showed him the way out. 

“Tsk, Miles,” admonished Alex. “That was rude.” Eyes sparkled with humor as he took a seat. “Poor guy was trying his hardest to please you!”

“He wasn’t trying to please _me_!” The simple suggestion made him scoff! “I might not understand French, but I can read looks. That one? Oh la la,” mocked Miles. 

Laughter filled the air again as Alex weighed the insinuation. “Rest easy,” he said after a beat. “He’s not my type! I prefer a different kind of flair!” His attention settled on him.

Miles was so fucking tempted to flirt back, to really let loose and wipe that smug look from his face, only to replace it with a blush that deserved its name. But he was not to play with him! He was not to screw up, especially not after he’d done that just last night, holding his fucking hand before falling asleep to the lullaby of his melodic breathing. 

Tearing his eyes away from Alex and his coy smirk, Miles stretched his neck. Yesterday’s hard labor still had its claws on him, and his shoulders were sore and powerless. “What brings you here?” One eye hovered on the door, tensely waiting for Doreen to tell him Lena had called. 

“Tomorrow. The cover band? We never really settled on it.” Alex scooted down in the visitor’s chair and crossed his legs while opening the jacket’s button, giving no indications of leaving anytime soon. Not that Miles wanted him to. “Well? Are you free?”

“Yes, sure!” He’d half-forgotten about it by now, but he was actually looking forward to spending the night – well, the _evening_ with him. The nights were off limits! They were bad. Dark and dangerous. “Should we meet there or—” His phone rang. He grabbed it hastily. “Lena?”

“Hey,” answered his wife. “I don’t have much time, so let me be quick here. For this thing to work, we _at least_ need to open an office here. It would be easier to completely do it from here, though – programming and all. Regulations and that. I’ll sent over the details. But you have to do it yourself. It’s a lot of work.”

His shoulders fell. Damnit. “Feared that.”

“This could be really profitable. The website alone, though, won’t do it. The app is inevitable. I got dibs on a possible construction site if you want to go in big. Also, I got an office space on hold and I set up meetings with prospective personnel. Can I expect you?”

He nodded, deflated, then recalled that he was on the phone and needed to use words. “Yes, I’ll fly in. As soon as possible. Got to go now. Talk later?”

“Will do. Bye.”

Miles hung up. 

Alex eyed him interestedly. “Everything alright?”

“No. Yes, actually.” He slumped back into the chair. “That secret affairs website I once told you about? It’s getting somewhere. But we can’t do it under the same roof as the match-making app. PR and that. We plan on doing it under a new company, which we’ll place in California.”

“Sounds promising,” said Alex. 

It was. But it was also a lot of work and the guy who was supposed to run the project was out sick with a broken shoulder, after a skiing trip gone wrong, which meant that Miles had to step in and do a lot of the work. Locally. “I have to California for a bit.” 

“A bit?” Alex frowned. “What’s a bit?”

Miles lowered his head. “I have to go on Sunday. Could be a month. Maybe more. Worst case? Two months.” He’d never minded leaving the country before. He’d taken extensive trips to New York and San Francisco and all over the world, really. And he’d enjoyed it each time. Only, back then, he’d been alone and free and…he still was all that, Miles realized. Yet, there was Alex. And saying goodbye for up to two months suddenly soured the prospect of a profitable new project. 

Alex was looking at his hands, which he’d folded in his lap. “That long, eh?”

“Yep.” 

A bemused shrug rolled from his shoulders. Barely bemused. “Here I was, worried about telling you that I might have to leave for two weeks in about a month.”

Miles was chuckling, but there was nothing funny about the entire situation. It was the kind of laugh you gave when you didn’t know what else to do or say. The empty kind that was a placeholder for a more honest response. Which, in this case, was, “This sucks!” 

“Well said,” replied Alex. He sat up straighter. “We still got tomorrow night, right? Let’s make the most of it. We’ll go to dinner first.”

He tried to sound positive, but Alex was sad. Miles could tell just by looking at him. The colorful swirl in his eyes that could shine as bright as burnt sienna when he was really happy had become a dull dollop of boring brown. 

But even the palest and shallowest of colors couldn’t take away the joy of getting lost inside of them and as Miles drifted off into their depths, it dawned on him that this person who was vivacious and successful and charismatic and full of excitement whenever he allowed that part of him to thrive, sat across from him, gloomy for no other reason than Miles’ imminent departure. Alex would miss him. _Him._

Miles’ heart experienced the most unusual sensations at that idea. In a way, it did him in. How had that happened? What had he done to deserve this man’s affection? 

A funny look, one full of mirth mingled with flakes of confusion, made it to Alex’s face as he held Miles’ gaze. “There’s the strangest smile on your face. What are you thinking about?”

“You,” said Miles, too fast to stop himself from doing it. He quickly looked away. “Uh…”

“Think about me _how_?” asked Alex with that warm and gentle voice of his, not put off, nor hesitant to discuss out loud what other men might find embarrassing. 

What Miles might have found embarrassing a moment ago and what he now freely admitted in the face of somebody who would not judge him for it. “Sometimes, it sinks in that you like me and…” Their eyes met again. He shook his head. Shrugged. He didn’t have to words to define what odd things he was feeling at the moment. 

A faint nod rolled from Alex’s shoulders and his lips stretched for the smile that he tried to suppress but failed to do. “I like you a lot.”

“I’ve traveled so much and never thought twice about it. It’s different this time.” There was a mountain’s worth of things that he wanted to tell him, but he was stuck and scared almost. Unable to say more than a few vague lines that he could only hope let Alex guess what he really wanted to express, instead. He’d miss him terribly. 

“Want to call it a day and play hooky?” Alex uncrossed his legs and sat up. “Or is there anything important left on your schedule today?”

_Only you._

Miles shook his head with a chuckle. “Nothing that can’t wait.” Some things he’d have to do tonight, then. Or tomorrow. Maybe he’d work through the night. Or maybe not. He couldn’t possibly care at the moment. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well.” He writhed out of his jacket, tossed it onto the spare chair next to him, and rolled up his sleeves. 

Miles watched transfixed as those arms flexed and fingers worked. By the time Alex reached his tie and pulled it apart, his lips had run dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. He swallowed hard. 

Alex reached for the sunglasses that rested in his shirt pocket, put ‘em on, and grinned. “I would really love a big bowl of ice cream right now.”

And Miles would love to lick that melting sugary sweetness straight from his stomach. But he could make do with a bowl. “Sounds perfect. Let’s go.”

Miles’ arm rested loosely around Alex’s shoulder as he inspected, with a level for detail that entirely startled him, a gold-rimmed champagne flute that cost more than the crocodile leather belt that he was wearing in this very moment. 

Alex was lost in the hilarity of it, shaking against his side as he tried avoiding the curious stares of the sales employees of _Harrods_. “How on earth did we wind up here, huh?”

“By sheer luck!” Miles turned his head, speaking directly into his ear even though there was no need whatsoever to stand this close, let alone touch him. “I’ll be gone for weeks! I have to make sure I got a proper present for my mom’s birthday at the ready! She’s having hers in seven weeks. I hope to be back by then, but I can’t guarantee it. This way, it’s packed and waiting to be picked up by her.” 

He put the flute down. He was generous, but that price tag was outrageous! The arm that remained around Alex moved and Miles pointed at a set of silverware. “That?”

Alex looked there. “Oh, I don’t know.” He pulled his forehead into doubtful lines. “It’s…tacky?” He reached up, put his hand on Miles’ and aimed both in a different direction. “Look at the teaspoons. Don’t the new cups have butterfly prints?”

“Paintings,” corrected Miles, snorting. “Hand-painted. Two freakishly colorful butterflies on each little cup. I tell you, I could have bought a fucking car for that!” 

“Don’t I know. The plates my mom took off my hand? My guitars cost less!” 

“Why are we financing our mothers’ fancy hobby of overpriced tableware?” wondered Miles, amused. 

“We were raised that way,” explained Alex wryly. His hand still held on to Miles’, on his shoulder. He turned slightly, to meet his eyes. “New pots? Or some of those – what’s it called, Nubian bedsheets?” His face twisted around the words.

“Egyptian,” said Miles in all seriousness. “And those are worth it!”

“Ooh, are they? Are you a regular buyer of fancy sheets, then?”

“I like sleeping well,” professed Miles, not ashamed to admit it. “But good idea. Sheets are that way.” He linked their hands and led the way.

“Somebody knows his way around here,” snickered Alex. “Look at those,” he said, once they reached the vast amounts of linens that were presented on artfully decorated beds. “How about some…” He leaned down, to read the label. “Ha! Something French for you. _Ives Delorme_.”

“Or not,” declared Miles. “That flirty Frenchman from earlier was enough for the day.” Too late he noticed that upon uttering the word ‘flirty’ he’d given Alex’s hand a gentle squeeze. And as he mentally berated himself for being legions too proprietary, it entered his mind that it might as well be a good idea to let go of his hand altogether, given the fact that Alex was _not_ his boyfriend and that strolling around with entwined fingers in the midst of motherfucking _Harrods_ was dumb to say the least.

He let go, hard as it was, took a step to his left, and pretended not to see how hurriedly Alex’s high spirits went away. “I’m taking this one.” The frilly, lime green set, if nothing else, fit the unique and – in his mind disturbing – floral tapestry of his parents’ bedroom. 

“Green?” Alex cringed

“Turner!” 

The cringe grew to its full capacity. “Fuck!” 

Miles turned wide-eyed when Alex grabbed his arm hard. “Whatever happens, don’t say anything and please, _please_ , don’t argue!”

“Okay?”

An elderly man with silver hair, wearing an old-fashioned suit, a hat, and a walking stick made his way to them, only to give Alex’s shoulder a solid slap. “Introduce me, kid. Who is this?”

Alex spoke with gritted teeth as he motioned for Miles. “Miles Kane. Miles, this is Edward Montford the Third. The current head of _South London Steel_.” 

“That company you told me about. Yes.” Miles smiled friendly as he extended his hand. “Honor to meet you, Sir.” 

“Kane?” Edward gave him a quizzical expression. “Of the Manchester Kanes?”

“Of the Liverpool Kanes,” kidded Miles.

“Never heard of those,” stated Edward somberly. “Commoners, then?”

_Ah._

Now he understood Alex’s plea. Biting his cheek, he nodded demurely and hoped to God his phone would ring immediately. But divine intervention, he came to see, was out of office for the rest of the day. Just as his luck. 

“Miles,” interjected Alex, likewise biting his tongue from saying the wrong thing, “heads his own company. I dare say it exceeds yours in revenue, size, and name-recognition.” 

“Steel,” Edward asked unconvinced. “What’s bigger than that?”

_Everything after 1920_ , Miles was tempted to quip but stayed true to his word and remained reserved. “We render online services.”

“That nonsense? Won’t go anywhere. Mark my words. Do something useful with your life and switch to a prospering business.” His eyes moved away from Miles and settled on Alex, now. “Lawyers, those nitpickers, are still fretting over your consolidation proposal. It’s long, Turner. Too much so. Lawyers cost money. I’d have switched to a different company, but I was told by my board – damned idiots, the lot of them – to put my trust in you. Don’t disappoint me, Turner. Making sure my company survives this little dark spot in its glorious history is the most important task in my life for the moment. You’ll regret failing me.” His eyes sharpened. Warningly. “Moving on. My wife is extending an invitation to our annual summer garden party to you. Official invitation, of course, should arrive by postal way. Bring one of the pretty ones I was told you show around on these occasions. Don’t we all love a bit of beauty, now and then? Tell her to wear something, shall we say, summer-ish?”

“I will try my best,” said Alex, words controlled and subdued.

“See that you do. Turner. Kane. Have a nice one.” With a tip of his hat, he moved on. 

Alex spun around, leaned against a large tower of duvet covers, and groaned soundly. 

“He’s a charming fella!” Miles kept his gaze on the man until he disappeared into an elevator, then allowed the roll that had been tugging on his eyes for minutes now to launch. And what a big one it ended up being. “I’m tempted to buy his company just to put a laptop into his office!” 

“Do it,” encouraged Alex in earnest. “You can afford it. It’s worth shit. There’s nothing to consolidate. Bastard turned one of the most profitable companies of this country into a pile of debt! He strolls around like a fucking royal and technically doesn’t even have the cash for a bloody coffee!” 

“What’s with your proposal, then?” He leaned against the covers next to Alex and distantly acknowledged that the curiously soft fabric was feeling nicely against his skin. He’d have to take a closer look at that in a moment. 

Alex shook his head. “Guy won’t let me sell. So, I sent over a roadmap for a new start. Begins with him losing his title, his influence, and his voting rights. It’s doomed, therefore. Which is bad, ‘cause if I could proceed with the sale – and I already have a prospective buyer, by the way – he’d end up debt-free and the number in my account would take a nice trip upstairs!”

“That much, huh?” There was a dreamy gaze on his face and Miles went sly when he spotted it. “Spent that money in your head already, didn’t you? Spill it. What’s it going to be? New guitar? New car?”

“A very, _very_ comfortable year off.” 

“You, giving up work?” He had trouble imagining that. Alex wasn’t a workaholic, he loved taking his breaks, but entirely without a job?

“Traveling the world, you know?” He smiled at him. “The idea has been growing on me, lately. I don’t want to wake up one day and regret something.”

At that, Miles nodded. He knew those thoughts. He had them, too. 

“But it’s a long road ahead. I got to convince this son of a…well, _him_ , to sell and that’ll be a bloody miracle to achieve!” Pushing away from the duvet covers, Alex spun back around. “Those things are freakishly soft!”

“I know,” agreed Miles, mirroring Alex’s moves and grabbing one from the pile. “Hate the color.” 

“May I be of service to you?” A tall and slender gentleman, whose hair was thin and beginning to grey, sidled up to them and flashed a bright and friendly smile their way. “My name is Jacques. Would you gentlemen like to find out about our new bed linens collection?”

Miles sank his head against Alex’s shoulder with a low and quiet growl. “He’s French!” 

Alex, trying to swallow his laugh, wrapped his arm around Miles’ shoulders. “That means he might know something about bed linens, then!” He directed his view at him. “We certainly would. What is this and does it come in a different color?”

“This beautiful set of covers is made out of pure Mulberry silk. It’s Gingerlily.”

“Pink,” remarked Miles dryly. Alex had a determined hold on him. The arm was possessive and firm and unrelenting, and Miles was tired of fighting a war with himself, one he didn’t want to wage. He was due to leave the country two days from now. They wouldn’t see each other for months, possibly. _Fuck it_ , he decided, and curled his own arm tightly around Alex’s waist, at first startling him, then finding himself rewarded with a beaming smile. 

“Not pink,” objected Jacques, as if gravely insulted by the mere insinuation. “Veiled Rose.”

“Pink,” murmured Miles stubbornly into Alex’s ear. 

Alex, in return, pinched his shoulder. “How about something a little less… _veiled_.” 

Jacques considered his options. “We have this set in Misted Pollen and Field Poppy.”

“Field Poppy,” chose Alex. 

Miles blinked. “What’s that?

“A color.”

“Smartass. _What_ color?”

“A pretty one,” smirked Alex. “Take it.”

“Fine. Let’s take that.” Anything that wasn’t pink. “Also, that one over there. Giftwrapped, if you could. Do I need sheets as well? I still don’t know what color I’m getting.” 

Alex’s smirk got dangerously wide. “We’ll take matching sheets as well.”

“Size,” asked the French. “King? Super King?”

“Emperor,” Alex let him know.

“Oh, the gentlemen love space. Lucky for you, we have the matching sheets in all sizes on stock. Let me pack everything up for you. In the meantime, would you like to look at our new collection of color-coordinated cotton robes? We now offer ‘his’ and ‘his’ as well. Any kind of monogram, really!”

The grin on Alex’s face went from ear to ear by now as he had the time of his life playing his wife. “Yes, darling!” He grabbed Miles’ hand, brought it to his lips, and gave it a kiss. “Let’s have a look at the robes!”

Jacques went his busy way and as Alex twirled away from him, striding on towards the robes in question, Miles felt frozen in his spot. He was moving. His legs took step after step. His hand was still clutched in Alex’s. But his mind was stuck in time and place, stagnantly lingering by the tower of duvet covers where, just a few seconds ago, Alex had given his hand the kind of fleeting and casual kiss one might exchange when one was happily married. 

“Do you even wear a robe?” Alex let go of Miles and brought his fingers to the cotton of the article of clothing in front of him, testing and dismissing upon the first touch. “Ugh, awful. Feels like wearing a fluffy towel!” He moved on to a different set of robes. “I hate it when towels are soft. I like mine scratchy. None of those hydrocotton ones!”

Miles reached out, put his hand on Alex’s cheek, and leaned in for a kiss. In the middle of one of the world’s most famous department stores. In broad daylight. He brushed his lips against that plum perfection that was Alex’s mouth and moaned softly as he gently pressed against him. It lasted but a few seconds. And he didn’t linger, nor prolonged it in any way. He didn’t want to, either. He’d simply wanted to give him a kiss. A tender, little kiss. 

Something altogether inappropriate.

Alex stared at him, astonished. One hand flew up and he touched his own lips as if to check if they were still there. 

“I’m sorry,” said Miles, dazed by what he’d done and a little hazy because it had felt so good. Then he shook his head, almost out of it. “I lied, just now.” 

Breaking out of his shock, Alex snorted. “Did you?”

He turned cheeky as he flung his arm back in place, around Alex’s shoulder. “Hydrocotton? Field Poppy? What are you? A _Harrods_ regular?” He moved on, unwilling, and unable to discuss what had happened. There was no point to it at any rate. What would they say? That the kiss was dangerous? Yes, it had been that. So much more dangerous than either one could truly gasp, assumed Miles. No need to speak out loud what both knew already. Was it stupid and heedless and risky? Yes. Again. Old news. Would he do it again? In a bloody heartbeat. 

Alex held his gaze for a long moment, figuring out, no doubt, where to go from here. In the end, he followed the road mapped ahead by Miles. “Towels are essential to one’s life. Nothing wrong with knowing a thing or two about them, right?”

“Fair point. Field Poppy?”

Laughter. “Orange.” 

“Alex!”

Louder laughter. “Give it a go! You'll love it. Trust me.” Alex brought his hand back up and linked his fingers with the hand that was resting on his shoulder. “Here's something else you'll need: Dinner. Tell me, where should we go? Are you up for French?”

Miles tightened his grip, brought his body closer against his side, and met Alex's chuckles with a dramatic, “Nooo!” They reached the elevator, but he kept going for the escalator, still not trusting himself with those pesky and private enclosed spaces. “Oooh, stop! We almost forgot my stuff. Can’t leave without the orange sheets, right? How 'bout…Italian?”

“Yeah, that's better, you're right. Nothing says lackluster sex life than a good old aphrodisiac like linguini with mussels!”

“Don't worry,” announced Miles, a mischievous look on his face, “I'll eat plenty of garlic and onions!”

  
  


He'd done none of that. But he'd gotten drunk, dumb idiot that he was! Now, trailing Alex up the stairs to his apartment after refusing to step into the elevator with him, his index finger was knotted with Alex's one and his eyes remained unflinchingly on his ass, staring shamelessly as Alex climbed the steps one luscious move after another. “God, your ass is so fucking hot! Wanna bite it!”

Alex, matching Miles' level in inebriation, came to a shaky stop at the end of the stairs and tossed a naughty look of disapproval his way. “Na uh! No complimenting my ass! No flirting, remember?” Miles came to a halt in front of him. Alex touched his chest, splayed his fingers there. “Unless you want to take that flirting somewhere.” Hope stretched in his voice, a low and sultry timbre that attacked Miles’ best intentions straight at the core. “Like…into my bedroom?”

A desolate growl escaped Miles' throat. “Don't do that.” His eyes looked to where he was touching him. “Stop. 'tis mean! I'm still married,” he murmured, head drifting closer towards Alex. “You're still a professional straight business jock. Life still sucks!” He covered Alex's hand with his, intending to drag it away. The touch was doing precarious things to him. Feverish things. Things that made him want to be rash and reckless!

Alex held steady, knotted his hand into Miles' shirt, and fisted the fabric. He dragged him further down the corridor, towards his door. “Deliver me, then.” He sounded pouty, unhappy. “You said you're a real gentleman and as that, you should see me safely home.”

“I did,” agreed Miles, nodding. Blinking. Completely lightheaded. “You're home!”

“The really good gentlemen,” cut Alex in, “tug you into bed.”

Chortled laughter from Miles. “You're such a fucking flirt! You know I can't do _that_!”

“Why not?”

Miles gave a bleak shrug. “I'll end up tugging you in different ways.”

“That's sounds so dirty.” They reached his door and as Alex sank with his back against it, he pulled on Miles' shirt and brought him perilously near, covering himself with him as though he was a blanket. “Do it! Tug me.”

“Bad, Alex…stop…” He was too close. Miles sank his nose into the crook of his shoulder and breathed him in. And because it was such a marvelous sensation to feel his heat against his face, to feel his soft puffs of air against his neck and to feel his hands as they snuck around his body, making murderous headway, he fully pressed himself against Alex and buried his face completely in the fine curve at the side of his face, where his jaw and his throat shared space.

“That's it,” whispered Alex, his voice a hint of sweltering possibilities. “Right there, yes! Fuck…feels so good. Kiss me there.”

He did. Oh, if only he could withstand him! If only he didn't want him this madly. He set his lips to the spot where he felt the magical drum of his bounding pulse. When he licked there, Alex shuddered in his arms and it made him grin. “You like that?” He did it again.

Alex tightened his arms around him. “Like it very much.” He rolled his hips.

Miles wailed in meek protest. “No…”

“Yes,” objected Alex. “You want it too!”

“Doesn't matter.”

“Let go then!” Alex clung to him, now. He kept twisting his hips, to show him what could be.

Miles bit down, sank his teeth into Alex's skin, tried to get him to stop this torturous act of his. It was the wrong strategy, he realized too late. The nip made Alex jolt forward, made their hard cocks rub hard against another. Shots of wild, molten pleasure rushed through his veins. His vision got blurry as he forgot how to use his head, let alone employ proper judgment. “Alex…oh Alex…”

Alex, clearly, knew what he wanted and to get it. His hands gripped Miles' hips, he guided his movements, let him know the pace he preferred and before long, they were bucking against another, dry-humping each other for a fraction of an orgasm when the big, fat, naked, sweaty kind of release was lurking just behind the door, on the floor or on the couch or in bed or any other spot, really. “Mmmmhh…yes…Miles, yes!”

When it hit, it hit them both. Fabric that rustled and loud breathing filled the quiet and dimly lit hallway as the two tremoring figures were entwined in each other’s arms, convulsing against the wooden door of Alex's apartment, grasping for air and control.

“Come inside with me,” begged Alex after minutes of silence, lips skimming along Miles’ earlobe. “There's no good reason not to do it!”

“You say that ‘cause you’re drunk. There are so many,” disputed Miles as he tore himself away from the man of his dreams. “So very many!” Hands reaching up, he cupped Alex's surly face, tilted his own forward and bumped the tip of his nose against that of his. Then he ghosted his lips, parting with a hushed, “sweet dreams, babe!”

On his way to the elevator, he swore he heard Alex cursing him.

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 12**

#

Miles licked his lips hungrily.

Alex grunted. “You want that? Get it the old-fashioned way.”

“Flowers and a date,” joked Miles, making light of it. But Alex saw the raging darkness that tore on his control. He saw the force with which Miles clung to the handrail behind him. Saw the ideas that swirled through his dirty mind.

“Get me drunk,” Alex volleyed back. The doors moved apart and he quickly escaped that hot and stuffy prison of theirs.

“This is what I meant,” muttered Miles, putting his shades back into place. “Elevators are not good for us!”

“Tell that to stairs we climbed last night.” 

#

For half an hour they had sat in silence across from one another, exchanging looks and smiles as they’d drank their coffees. Alex knew that Miles planned on taking a quick trip to his parents to say goodbye. And after that, he’d have to drop by the office for some last instructions and signatures. It was time to part. And the knowledge of that lay heavy in the air as Alex hovered by the door, jacket in hand, staring forlornly at the floor. “I’m going to miss your pool a whole fucking lot. I hope you know that.”

The widest smile made it to Miles’ face. “I’m gonna miss seeing that cheeky grin of yours each time you trick me into labor.” He leaned with one shoulder against the wall, next to the door. Inches away from Alex. He swallowed hard, avoiding Alex’s eyes. 

#


	12. A Night Out

Seventeen people had commented on it. Seventeen fucking people!

Alex sat at his desk, arms on top of it, clutching the little round make-up mirror that Janine had shoved into his hands minutes ago. His eyes had zeroed in on the oval, red mark on his neck. It was about an inch wide, had blurry edges, and an almost dotted line squarely in its center. Teeth marks. Rolling his eyes, grunting, he put the mirror away and covered the damned spot with his hand.

"Ha!" Janine, standing right across from him, dug through a giant purse that sat perched on the edge of his once wonderfully clutter-free desk, the same one that was now covered with a rainbow's worth of lip-gloss shades and other strange items. "Found it!" From the depths of her bag, she pulled out a small tan tube that Alex eyed warily. "It's the best concealer in the world," she declared with a level of severity as if announcing she was holding in her hand the very item that could cure cancer. Which she then selflessly gifted away. "Take it. You need it more than I do. It's not like I have a secret love affair!"

Alex grumbled in annoyance. "I told you I don't have an affair!" All he had was a Miles. And that Miles was a frustrating and irritating fellow to put it nicely! He was hot and sexy and passionate and ravenous and all sorts of desirable. But he was also maddeningly in control of his emotions. Most of 'em, anyway. He could be tempted into stepping over the line just a little bit. But the second things began to spiral out of control in the naughtiest of ways, he'd get all grown-up and reasonable.

Like last night. First, he'd gotten him all hot and bothered by being his usual charming self. And then, when Alex had entered a state of arousal that had effectively killed all sanity and better judgment, Miles had suddenly remembered both! If only he'd done so before leaving a fucking hickey the size of bloody Scotland on his neck!

Janine stepped into his personal space; tube unscrewed. "Here." Her hand tilted his head sideways. "Let me—"

"Bugger off," protested Alex, quickly tensing up. "Don't – alright? There's no need for it now, is there? Everyone already saw. Thanks to you, by the way." The second he'd arrived this morning, she'd taken note of the mark, had gasped loudly, and shrieked, "Who the fuck bit your neck?!" As if she'd spotted the damn Boogeyman sitting on his shoulder.

After that, everyone from HR to Legal had dropped by to sneak a peek at his damned love-bite.

"What did you expect?" She smiled innocently, not the least bit apologetic or even regretful. "I never saw you with a hickey! It's like finding out your parents have sex!"

"I'm thirty, not sixty," Alex retorted offendedly, with glare sharp enough to cut diamonds. "I'm barely three years older than you!"

"Well, technically, yes," allowed Janine. "But you got to be honest. I mean, when was the last time you went out for a date? I should be fielding calls from legions of women! You're looking…fine, you got money, you got connections. To be fair, I heard your jokes before and they lack a little, but other than that—"

"The fuck is wrong with my jokes?" He had a headache that was getting worse in a hurry and discussing his apparent lack of entertaining qualities sure wasn't helping.

"The joke is not at fault." A kind, reassuring, in his opinion bitingly mocking smile, showed up on her face. "You got money. You don't need the jokes."

"Leave now," he ordered.

"Don't be like that. We're having a moment." She tossed the concealer back into the black hole that was her purse, took a stand in front of his visitor's chair, and cocked her hip. "We're bonding. We're making headway in our relationship. We're establishing trust. We—"

Alex had heard enough. Shoving the mirror her way, he threw in a warning glower for free. "What the fuck do you want?"

"A name." She crossed her arms. "Do I know her?"

"Who?"

"Duh! The one that sank her teeth into your neck? For crying out loud, pay attention!"

Placing both hands flat on his desk, he rose to his full height and directed his entire, undivided, menacing focus at her. "You would do well to remember that I'm your boss—"

"So would you," chirped Janine, unflinchingly, "next time HR gives you hell for treating me unkind!"

His nerves were stretched to the snapping point. "I asked you to work the fucking weekend!"

"Yes!" She held his eyes and raised him an indignantly arched brow. "A weekend you took off to take a little vacay at some pool with your new BFF! What's fair about that?"

Her blatant subordination had him on the very verge of firing her, but the intel she had acquired about his private life made him pause. "How do you know about the pool?"

"Tan lines," she said dismissively.

He stared in wide-eyed befuddlement. "What?"

Janine was busy inspecting the state of her nail-polish, glimpsed at him sideways, then groaned. "You got tan in the face, which tipped me off! Then I saw you changing your shirt the other day and you got tan everywhere, which means you weren't wearing a shirt for a prolonged amount of time. You told me you were an hour away, in case something important came up, which indicates you weren't on the coast. It couldn't have been a public pool or lake, 'cause that's a place where strangers gather, and you don't like strangers. You went with Miles, I know that, since he posted a pic of himself with a guitar on Instagram and I saw your outdated duffle in the corner of what appeared to be his living room. The guy is loaded AF and I hope you found it in you to speak flatteringly of me. Just saying, you know? In case our relationship ends, I'd like to work for him. Long story short, you and your friend spent the weekend at his place, more precisely by his no doubt fucking amazing pool and you didn't invite me. Does he know?"

Speechless. That's what Alex was. "Wait, what?" Rubbing his temples with both hands, he sighed desolately. "Who knows what?"

"Miles?! Does he know who nibbled on your neck? It's my right to know, too!"

Speechlessness made room for disbelief. "Say that again?"

"How am I supposed to handle this situation? This is new territory for both of us. What if the future Mrs. Alex Turner arrives and I give her the boot because she doesn't have an appointment, huh?" Her eyes went wide in horror. "Oh no! It's that freaky doctor lady, isn't it? The one that rambled on about her golden retriever?" Janine clutched her throat in panic. "Alex, you can do so much better! I mean, I can imagine that you're worried that your time is running out and, sure, you have to settle for something, but please, settle for more than that! I mean, have you seen her roots?" She dropped into the chair behind her, shaking her head in objection. "I do not want to envision what that poor lady's down-under looks like!"

"Janine!" Alex, too, dropped into his chair. Despairing. Within the span of a minute, he'd been thoroughly insulted for his age, his apparent taste in women and his lack of a social life. Not only that, he'd also discovered that his loyal assistant was far from that and would trade him for a pool in less than a heartbeat, plus, he had to learn that he'd have to fucking watch his words and actions around her, lest he wanted her to discover that it were Miles' teeth that had marked his neck.

Somebody knocked.

"Yes," called Alex, no longer agitated and annoyed, but tired and exhausted. What a difference five minutes with Janine could make!

The door opened and Miles' head appeared. "Sorry, your assistant wasn't at her desk." The door was barely ajar as he remained in the doorway, eyes on his phone, typing away. "I'm early, I know. But we didn't really settle on a time last night, so…shall I wait somewhere else?" He'd yet to look up.

"No, it's fine," said Alex. He was beyond ready to call it a day! He reached for his keys and his phone, shut his laptop, and got up. "Janine, before you go, call Legal and inf—"

"OMFG!" exclaimed the twenty-something college graduate as though she was a fourteen-year-old teenager.

Miles' startled gaze flew up. He glanced at her, then at Alex, who shook his head, lost and helpless.

Her fists were balled excitedly, only to settle down in the nick of time, calmly announcing, "Oh, I understand completely!"

"Good thing somebody does," quipped Miles, only to stare back at his phone.

Rolling his eyes, Alex put on his jacket and decided not to care for the outbursts of his assistant anymore. "Call Legal and tell Roger I need the contract by Monday. Got that?"

She gave him a stern and serious nod. "I can. I mean it, Alex. You can trust me."

"Good," he replied, with a mixture of irritation and amusement. "I do. Have a nice weekend." Walking up to the door, he gave Miles' arm a nudge out. "Put that damn phone away, will you?"

Chuckling, and pointedly not putting the phone away, Miles typed on. "Just a few mails. Let me finish this! You're still wearing your suit. Shall we make a stop at your place or do you plan on wearing that tonight?"

"I'm surprised you know what I'm wearing, what with your eyes glued to your phone like that!" Miles wore one of his more colorful shirts, along with tight jeans. The latter, Alex was fully content with. The clung perfectly to his legs and he'd definitely sneak a few peeks at his fine ass during the night. Eyes lingering on his behind as he carefully guided him towards the elevators, Alex was glad that his headache was easing up. "The question is why aren't you wearing a suit. Whatever happened to working, eh? Admit it, your trip to California will be a months-long vacation that'll be interrupted by two or three days of work at most!"

"Wouldn't that be nice?"

In front of the elevators, Alex tugged on the back of his shirt, letting him know the road had ended.

Miles stopped.

"Put the phone away!"

"Fine!" With a grin, he shoved his phone into his pocket. Eyes landed on the chiming doors in front of him and the smile became a look of worry. "Let's take the stairs."

"Are you fucking kidding me? No!" He gave him another push. "Move! I'm not taking the stairs just 'cause you don't know how to keep from doing you-know-what! Keep your hands in your pockets if you have to! This is bloody ridiculous!" His damned urge to take the stairs was getting on Alex's nerves. Alex was the lazy kind of person and not above admitting it. He preferred cars to walking, take-out to cooking, and elevators to stairs. "Be a grown-up." The doors closed. "Which reminds me, thanks fucking bunches for acting like a horny teen last night!"

Miles' whole attention was exclusively on Alex, now. There was a humored, rakish smirk settled in place and determined to stay. His eyes were crinkling. A glint was hiding in there, somewhere, and all Alex had to do was stare into them for long enough to find it. The brightly patterned yellow shirt was making his sun-kissed skin glow in dark golden tones and when he reached into his shirt pocket to take out his sunglasses, putting them on so casually cool that it looked like a runway pose more than anything, Alex was forced to concede that, maybe, stairs weren't the worst idea after all!

"Horny teen?" asked Miles curiously, shades in place.

Alex yanked on his shirt's collar. "Seventeen people remarked on it today!"

"Fuck!" Miles winced hard, taking the shades right back off, to take a closer look. "Did I do that?"

"No," retorted Alex dryly. "I fell neck-first into my vacuum cleaner."

"No reason to be snippy about it," countered Miles, pushing away from his side of the elevator to really have a look. Slow steps brought him into Alex's personal space, which he'd come to enter and exit as if he bloody owned it.

Taking a sharp intake of air, Alex's lids turned heavier with each inch that Miles' head drifted closer. The tip of his friend's finger touched his jaw, gently tilting it to the side. Alex all but whined, "No…stop. Not here." Not where they could be interrupted.

Miles whispered as his thumb brushed the mark. "Not doing anything. Looks good on you."

"A hickey?" Hoarse laughter escaped Alex. His eyes closed and his breath hitched. Miles' nose was right next to his jawbone, nuzzling there ever so lightly. "Sto-o-op!" God, why didn't he do this kind of thing in the privacy of an apartment? Or a broom closet. A toilet stall?

Lips landed on his throat. Alex shuddered. Hands shot up and he gave Miles' chest a firm push, struggling for control over his raging lust. "Not now, hear me?!" As Miles leaned back against the metal wall, Alex drove both hands through his hair, then he grabbed his tie, undid the constricting thing, and roughly pulled it off.

Miles licked his lips hungrily.

Alex grunted. "You want that? Get it the old-fashioned way."

"Flowers and a date," joked Miles, making light of it. But Alex saw the wild darkness that tore on his restraint. He saw the force with which Miles clung to the handrail behind him. Had a vivid image of the ideas that swirled through his dirty mind.

"Get me drunk," Alex volleyed back. The doors moved apart and he quickly escaped that hot and stuffy prison of theirs.

"This is what I meant," muttered Miles, putting his shades back into place. "Elevators are not good for us!"

"Tell that to stairs we climbed last night."

"I swear I have no idea what she was thinking." Alex pulled deeply on his cigarette, ignoring the disapproving stares of London's upper elite as it walked past him and Miles, into the fine and rave-reviewed restaurant that had kindly but sternly blocked their entrance. "I told her to reserve a table for two. In no way did I tell her to book us a table at a fucking fancy-ass restaurant that comes with a bloody dress code and snobby doormen!"

Miles chuckled silently as he took a drag from his own cigarette. "Relax, will ya? There's a Burger King or a Pizza Hut nearby, I'm sure. Did you ask her to book the table after she spotted the hickey?"

Eyes flew up to stare at him. "Why?"

More laughter. "I'd kill to see the table she reserved for us. A hundred bucks say she had the staff decorate it with red roses and long-stemmed candles. Did she know you planned on spending the evening with me?"

Not that Alex recalled. He squinted, trying to remember. "I should have told her." That way, she'd have known to get the bloody table at a place that didn't come with a freaking dress code! Looking down at his well-worn, frayed jeans which he wore with his favorite vintage shirt, one that also happened to have a small hole at the neck, he felt gravely underdressed and deeply disturbed by the persistent and almost pitiful gawks of those making their way inside. Would some of the coiffed and diamond-encrusted ladies clutch their heavy chokers in shock if they discovered that Miles could probably buy all of their jewelry with the bit of change in his pockets? Would the gentlemen snort like mere commoners to hear that Alex had a closet full of tailored suits that cost three times the money the tails that dangled from their jackets were worth?

"We should get out of here," he told Miles, shaking his head. "Nothing ruins my mood faster than elitist pricks."

Somewhere, nearby, a lady gasped.

Miles snorted soundly. "What will restore it? Fish and chips?"

"Anything that's fried," said Alex, heading down the sidewalk.

Sprinting to catch up, Miles wrapped his arm around his shoulders, anchoring himself against his side. "You alright?"

"Yeah, it's just…that," he explained, tipping his head into the direction they came from. "Those people. I have to keep this charade up to maintain my access to their old institutions and their well-guarded clubs and it's fucking annoying. I don't care, most days. It's all part of the job, you know. Pretend to share their ideas of how the world should be run and then act completely different, only to apologize for making those fuckers richer than they were before. That restaurant? I ate there last week. I shook hands with most people inside. I got another dinner there on Monday. Suit and tie. God forbid jeans enter the hallowed halls."

He tried to shake the thoughts from his head, but they had a tight grip on his concentration. It wasn't until Miles' arm pulled him further into his side that Alex felt something akin to relaxation. "Ignore me."

"Not gonna," said Miles, giving his arm a squeeze, trying to raise his spirits. "Did you have a bad day at work?"

"No, not that. Work was just regular stress," he quipped. He lowered his head onto Miles' shoulder. It was this. Being entirely too close and yet not nearly close enough. He wanted to hold his hands and haul him in for a kiss and tell him not to go away for weeks, months maybe. He wanted to tell him to screw it all and just go for it and be together. He wanted to sit in the middle of that overpriced restaurant with the menu that he hated and the wine that he found stale and gaze into Miles' eyes as they sat across from one another. And he wanted to do it in his fucking jeans!

But he couldn't. Because, despite hating the people he needed to deal with as part of his life, overall, he actually liked his job. He was good at it! And Miles liked his job. He wouldn't spend up to two bloody months halfway across the world for it if he didn't! "I'm going to miss you," admitted Alex quietly. "And I'm not used to feeling this way about people. Guess that's putting me in a bad state. That and the fact that you filled me up last night," he jested, to lighten the mood that had become a little too serious. "And I'm still hungover."

Miles kept him locked against his side. "We don't have to go to the concert." A soft smile danced on his lips as his temple rested against Alex's. "If you prefer, we can just hang out or sit in a restaurant or a bar and talk. Or we'll keep walking."

Wasn't it bizarre? He'd looked forward to spending the evening with him, listening to some of the best songs ever written, getting drunk, standing too close and shouting things at him while being swallowed into oblivion by a large crowd of strangers who couldn't care less that their lips kept brushing each other's cheeks and ears? Yet, now that the day was here, he couldn't bring himself to feel excitement. Right now, all he wanted to do was curl into Miles' arms and stay there. And that, too, was a desire he'd never had before. "Would you really not mind? I mean, you were happy about going!"

"I'd be miserable if the actual Beatles played tonight." Miles gave Alex's arm a reassuring squeeze. "It's just a cover band. There'll be plenty more concerts we can go to! Tell me what you want to do."

"You are the one going away. You should decide."

"I just want to hang out with you."

Alex met his eyes, feeling grateful for his indulgence and deeply complimented by his words. Towing on the arm that rested around his shoulder, he brought its hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "I'm afraid I'm not much in the mood for company. Other people's company," he added quickly. "It's not too late. Are there any errands you've left to run? Anything for the big trip that I can help you with? Need my help zipping up your suitcase?"

Miles' eyes crinkled sheepishly. "I'd have to pack it, first."

"You haven't packed yet?! When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow night. Still got Saturday."

Unbelievable. "What if you realize you're missing something? What if your stuff isn't where you expect it to be? You'll be gone for weeks!" The more he said it, the deeper it sank in.

"I'm not going to the bottom of the ocean. It's fucking California! What am I going to need? Shirts and shorts? A few suits?"

"We're going to your place. I'm helping you pack."

Miles slowed down. "Not that I don't appreciate your help but—"

"I swear, Miles. No kissing. No other shit. We'll order Chinese, pack your shit and hang out. And if you make a move on me, I'll kick you in the balls!" Even though the last part made Miles laugh, Alex still spotted the hesitation and doubt. Until, finally, he caved.

"Fine. Let's go."

Alex was sprawled out on Miles' massive bed, barefoot, sighing contently as he rolled from side to side. "This silk stuff is fucking insane! I'm making a trip to Harrods first thing tomorrow and buy a set for myself! I don't even care if it's pink or rose or whatever."

Resting next to him was a ginormous suitcase, the fancy, leather kind. It looked like money and smelled like money – Alex knew. He'd sniffed it. But that was only the outside. On the inside, it looked like a giant clusterfuck. Jeans were stuffed into corners; shirts would forever be ruined by the wrinkles that were currently getting pressed into them. Socks were in there, somewhere, hiding amongst briefs and vests and very delicate silk ties. Miles heaped another pile of t-shirts inside.

Gaping in shock, Alex cleared his throat. "What on earth are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you," he phrased it carefully, "Like, usually, pack like that?"

Miles shrugged. "Not the suits. I got one of those special bags for those."

"Thank God," exclaimed Alex. "'Cause they'd die otherwise."

"Hey!"

Something ridiculous occurred to Alex, and he wouldn't have asked. But he was curious! And Miles did have a maid, after all. "Do you unpack yourself?"

"Er…" He headed for his drawer again. "You already make fun of me for having money. No, I don't. I hate doing it. It's either Mary, or some maid at whatever hotel I'm staying at." Shoulders fell. "I'm headed for San Francisco. I rented a house and…" His voice lowered. "Itkindagotabutlerandtwomaids."

Alex sat up. "Say that again!"

Spinning around, Miles crossed his arms. "What?"

"A butler and two maids? And you're staying there alone?" He shook his head in awe. It did his mind in. Sure, he was lazy, himself, and he had considered getting a maid. But his mother would pummel his ass if she found out. She'd call it the epitome of laziness. Every once in a while, when he knew his mother wouldn't drop by, he hired a cleaning service. Alex's eyes turned quizzical. "I feel like we've never really discussed how fucking rich you actually are. Help me out here. Do you have a private plane?"

"No," huffed Miles. Only to admit, cheekily, "But I occasionally rent one. Just a little one!"

"Do you have any other mansions? Penthouses? Islands?"

"A little house by the coast of Italy. Only for vacation. Near Naples."

"How little?" asked Alex skeptically.

"Four bedrooms—"

"Miles!" Their definitions of 'little' were vastly different. Sitting upright and pinning him to the dresser with a sharp, inquiring glare, Alex probed on. "Boats?"

"One," he admitted. Smirking. "A little yacht."

"Stop saying little."

"But it is little, compared to other yachts. It's only thirty-five meters!"

Alex promptly dropped back onto the bed. "From now on, it should be a rule that you always pay. For everything. Dinners, drinks, my new car—" A pair of socks flew his way and when he looked up, Miles stuck out his tongue. "No wonder Janine wants to work for you. Heads up, by the way. She knows you're rich. And I'd bet all of your money that she knows more about your financial situation than you do, yourself! She's freakishly smart," he'd discovered. He crossed his arms underneath his head and got comfortable again. "What's it that you got to do over there?"

"Lena got a possible construction site for the new office building," said Miles as he resumed packing. "I want to take a look at it. She's perfect when it comes to PR. Beyond compare. And she's insane with almost every other aspect of the company. But when it comes to buildings, she really likes to go all in. She's the one that bought this place, by the way. All the rooms across the hall are hers. Mine are on this side. The downstairs space, we share. If she's around. She was born for traveling. We have to decide if we want to build or rent a place. I'd prefer to rent since that means we can start a lot sooner with finding employees and getting everything set up. Then there are about a million forms to file and contracts to sign and stuff like that. Have to find a legal team that will take over our business in the States. Things like that."

"All that grew from a tiny little dating agency that you formed after school." Alex let that sink in. "It's really impressive."

"It's the app with its ad revenue. If it weren't for that, we'd still be small and, who knows, probably closed by now." As he said it, Miles dropped a very expensive shirt carelessly into his monogrammed suitcase and it made Alex laugh. "What's so funny?"

"If I had met you at some random place, I would have never guessed that you got a mansion and boat and all that shit. You dig holes with me in the heat even though you don't have to. You got enough money to retire and live the most insane life and yet you wake up every morning and go to work. You spent your money on your parents. Buy ridiculous teacups." Alex rolled to his side to watch him. There's was the slightest hue of red grazing Miles' cheeks. Alex smiled. "I want to see that boat of yours when you get back! Where is it anyway?"

"Harboring in Naples. I wanted to anchor it in front of my house, but the water wasn't deep enough! Got into a huge fight with the local authorities and almost got arrested!"

As he envisioned it, he could almost see Miles in his designer loafers and some funny captain's hat, yelling in English while some poor Italian official had to stand there and pretend to listen. The laughter ceased. "Hold on, when you say 'anchor it in front of your house…', like, what?"

Miles closed the lid and zipped up. "It kinda sorta has its private beach."

"Of course, it has," muttered Alex, rolling his eyes. "Of course."

They'd talked for hours. Until late into the night. They had eaten Chinese on the floor of his bedroom, to avoid dropping noodles onto the fine silk. The noodles had ended up on the plush carpet instead.

"Mary will kill me once she sees this," Miles had worriedly remarked.

"Good thing you'll be an entire ocean away," Alex had quipped.

They'd chatted about the childhoods, their jobs, and Miles' long-winded struggles to actually captain his boat, which he wasn't allowed to do without a proper license that, as it turned out, was harder to gain than a driver's license! They'd listened to songs. Alex had told him a ridiculous amount of jokes, making him swear to render a brutally honest judgment about his selection and his delivery. Miles had applauded both. Alex rested easier, now, that his confidence in his entertaining qualities was restored.

And they'd fallen asleep next to each other. All without so much as crossing the line a single time. Except for the fact that they might have held hands for the better part of last night. But no kisses! And he'd really wanted to kiss him!

Now, well into the morning, close to noon, rather, Alex stirred. His vaguely awake state barely allowed him to make sense of his surroundings. The bed upon which he rested was incredibly cozy. There was a heavy and warm body half on top of him, hooking him in place, even though he felt no longing to leave. Tilting his head, feeling a scratchy stubble rubbing against his own, it dawned on him that it was Miles, who had a veritable death grip on him. Curling his arm around his back and gently stroking his head, Alex closed his eyes again.

But that little gesture of contentment had been enough to rouse him from his slumber. Sleepy, husky sounds wafted from him. Eyes briefly fluttered open, only to slam shut again. All of it was amusing Alex, and he observed with great fascination how Miles made his way from asleep to awake in the tiniest steps possible. His nose rubbed along Alex's jaw, drawing a moan from him. Hands gripped his sides. And before Alex even knew what was happening, Miles rolled on top of him and caught his lips in a kiss so deep and so wonderful that he immediately drowned in it. A firm thigh wedged his way between his legs. Alex arched up, desperate for that miraculous friction, of which Miles offered more and more. He kissed him harder, messier, filthier, needier with each heartbeat that passed.

Only, Miles was hardly awake.

Alex wailed in frustration. Why couldn't this attraction of theirs ever boil over when the circumstances were ideal? Why did it always have to happen in the most unfortunate of moments? With a grouch in voice, he pushed his hands against his shoulders, bringing some much needed, yet entirely unwanted distance between them. "Miles…come on, wake up!"

"Mmmh," protested Miles, letting go of the lips and heading for the throat.

"Oh no!" This time, Alex put some muscle into it. "Not another one!"

Miles landed on his side, blinked against the bright light of day and became aware, apparently, of what had almost happened. "Fuck. Oh…shit, sorry!"

Yep. Alex had assumed he'd be that. "'tis alright." He sat up and wiped his mouth, then his tired eyes. His gaze landed on him. He looked so insanely hot. Sleep-tousled, rumpled, with a crinkle in his cheek from the seam of Alex's shirt. That half-hard erection. He tore his attention away. Shuffled out of the bed. "Coffee?"

"Yes," agreed Miles, almost too quickly.

For half an hour they had sat in silence across from one another, exchanging looks and smiles as they'd sipped their coffees. Alex knew that Miles planned on taking a quick trip to his parents to say goodbye. And after that, he'd have to drop by the office for some last instructions and signatures. It was time to part. And the knowledge of that lay heavy in the air as Alex hovered by the door, jacket in hand, fidgeting with a button as he stared forlornly at the floor. "I'm going to miss your pool a whole fucking lot. I hope you know that."

The widest smile made it to Miles' face. "I'm gonna miss seeing that cheeky grin of yours each time you trick me into labor." He leaned with one shoulder against the wall, next to the door. Inches away from Alex. He swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes. "I'm glad we didn't go out last night. I'll call you when I get there and, uh—"

"Try not to call before noon your time. I might not be awake yet."

"Oh, right. I'll have to remember that! I'm really bad with time differences, so, better be prepared for some late-night calls," warned Miles preemptively.

Looking up, Alex chuckled. "We'll figure it out."

"We will."

Alex reached for the handle. "I should—"

Miles' lips cut him off. In a sudden, yet strikingly swift move, Alex was flat against the door, covered from head to toe with Miles, who kissed him with a desperation and a passion so overwhelming that he had to wrap his arms around his neck, lest he wanted to end up on the floor, boneless and liquified. His lips were soft and warm and ravenous and when Miles was finished playing games and let his tongue enter the arena, Alex was done for. Clinging hard to him, he moaned into his mouth and didn't think twice about frotting off against him. "Baby…" he purred, panting. Kissing back and groping harder. He didn't want to part, even though he knew this kiss was farewell and not hello.

Yet, just as things began to spiral into that wondrous territory of pleasure and delight, Miles let go of his lips, gave his cheek a last caress, then stepped away entirely.

Alex gave Miles' arm a final touch, then left, slipping away without a word. Words were useless, anyway. What difference would 'goodbye' make? As he made his way to the elevator, short distance though that was, it occurred to him that, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt something close to heartache. It was a singular, almost bizarre sensation. His heart felt heavy and constricted and his entire body felt drained of energy. What a fucked-up feeling that was!

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 13**

#

More yawning from Miles. “Seriously, hang up and go to sleep!”

“Don’t  wanna ,” whined Miles petulantly, as Alex found to his utter amusement.  “We never talk more than a minute or two. That sucks!”

They were victims of their busy schedules. He knew. He, too, wished it’d be different. “We’ll talk tonight. I promise.  Gives me a reason not to stay out for too long. ”

“Who knows, you might end up enjoying yourself!”

With Janine?  Somehow, he doubted that.

#

"Want an aspirin? You look like you could use one.”

“Yes.” That’s the reply he settled on. There were a million and one things that he would have loved to  say instead, but today, in his current condition, he was in no shape or form to  meet the  restless and fast  eloquence of his peculiarly  grinning assistant. “Better make it  two.”  Eyes glanced at the time. “And if the  Prince of Bite-Me is waiting out there, send him in, would you?”

“Will do.” She rose to her feet. “Alex… some  drunken admissions notwithstanding,  I think it was a good thing you opened your heart to somebody.  If you want to talk, I’m here. And , for what it’s worth, being hungover and snarky suits you. ”

“Leave now.”

#


	13. Hungover

It was the end of July. The heat, to Alex’s great despair, was increasing. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, tugging on his tie with his other hand, he marched out of the elevator and into his office, not bothering for polite pleasantries, hellos, or even the merest bit of eye contact with anyone he might have passed. Right now, there were only two things that he wanted. A tall glass of ice water and being back at home, in bed, preferably with Miles! 

The water was easy to get. 

The other thing? 

He blew out a heavy, overheated breath as he slammed his office door shut behind him. Miles was in San Francisco for two weeks now. Sex with him was not an option. And he could be tempted into taking a trip to California for the weekend if it were. Which it was not, because physical distance was not, to his great dismay, what was keeping them apart. Discarding the tie entirely, he tossed it onto the couch, walked around his desk and sank into his chair. Legs spread out wide, arms dangling almost lifelessly down each side, he leaned back and decided to catch a few more minutes of sleep in the dim hope of recharging his batteries. 

He tried to, that was. As he was about to close his eyes, his attention landed on the small plate that sat squarely on the center of his desk. On top of the plate rested a big, delicious muffin, with its entire crown covered in mouthwateringly melting chocolate. The rich, smooth texture was calling out to him, luring him into taking a bit bite. He’d have made quick work of it if it weren’t for the little note it came with. 

_ ‘I know you got a hard time right now. Hope this will cheer you up. Yours loyally, Janine’ _

That woman! 

“JANINE!” 

The door flew open. “You bellowed?” 

Alex gave the plate a push. “What is this?” 

“A muffin.” 

He bit his tongue and swallowed his conviction that she got a kick out of being purposely obtuse. “I can see that. I mean what, precisely, is  _ this _ ?” 

“Precisely? Well.” She cleared her throat. “Four hundred grams of finest baking art picked up and paid for by your lovely assistant, who is deeply concerned about your current state of mind, what with you being all alone and such.” 

“That—” The words died on his lips. He’d been on the cusp of giving her a roaring lecture about the limitations of their relationship, the lines she’d crossed, and the assumptions she’d wrongly and audaciously made. But as he’d opened his mouth, he’d seen the genuine and honest concern on her face and he’d faltered. Shoulders fell and he motioned for his visitor’s chair. “Have a seat, would you? Why would you think I need a bloody muffin to make it through the day?” It really confused him. 

Sure, he’d been a bit harsher than usual for the last few days. More stressed. He’d recognized that, too. And he tried to ease up. Calm down. But this damn struggle to get that fucker Edward to give up his spot at the head of the table of his crumbling empire was shaping up to be much more than a simple negotiation. It was a war, in a sense. A scuffle for power. A battle of two men with wildly varying goals except one – money. It was taking a lot longer than he’d expected. Each time he ran into him, they ended up in an argument. Only, it was not the dry and fact-based type that Alex had with most other clients. It was a debate about morals and ethics and life, almost. 

It was bloody exhausting! 

Janine took a seat and crossed her legs. Teeth gnawed on her lip and fingers fidgeted. “You’re always tense and glum and with Miles away, enjoying a summer in California, you’re on your own. I mean, you don’t even go out with the other guys anymore.” 

He knew that. He’d used to go for drinks with a bunch of people from accounting. But ever since spending time with Miles and coming to appreciate a genuine friendship, he’d found himself monumentally bored by all those superficial and empty ones. He could even be convinced to dust off his interest in deepening connections with people, yet, there seemed to be a lack of worthy recipients, so to speak. “Jake and the others,” Alex shrugged, “They’re…” 

“Your typical assholes,” supplied Janine, speaking with the authority of somebody who knew so for a fact. “I wouldn’t go out with them, either. They only care about hookups and money.” 

“They’re not  _ that _ bad,” said Alex. 

“You’re a guy. Trust me, they are. Anyway. I just wanted to do something nice. You don’t have to eat the muffin. But you really need to get your head out of the office, Alex. I know that this deal with the steel company is, like, a huge success if it goes through. But life is more than work. Are you free tonight? Why am I asking?” She shook her head. “Of course you are. Go out with me and my friends. We’re going for drinks. You’ll love my friends!” 

At her suggestion, he had to chuckle. Even though he did feel flattered. “Drink  _ Cosmopolitans _ and discuss shoes?” 

“What are we, a bad tv cliché? My friend Andrea finished interning at London’s biggest law firm and can’t decide if she wants to take the job offer from them or enter a top legal position at  _ Lloyds of London _ . Sally studied business like you and keeps asking me for an opportunity to meet you. For some reason, she’s under the impression that you actually know something about your job! And Lily just filed for divorce ‘cause her loser of a husband couldn’t handle the fact that she makes five times the money he does. By the way,  _ Cosmopolitans _ are so  _ nineties _ . We drink Whiskey. Are you in or not?” 

Feeling grossly humbled and truly horrible for having dismissed them as airheads, he lowered his head and didn’t dare to decline her invitation now. “She really wants to meet me?” 

“She does.” 

“Alright.” 

“We’ll be at Scarfes Bar at nine. Meet us there.” 

He gave a curt nod. “One more thing. No more muffins and no more notes, please. Well…” Eyes lingered on the melting chocolate. “I can be lenient about the muffins. But I’m serious about the notes.” 

“It’s a gluten-free muffin with no sugar.”

“Get out.”

She flung a grin his way, got up, and walked out, closing the door behind her. 

Just as Alex reclined back into his chair, his phone rang. With an instant smile, he answered it. “I’ve been a made a social case. What’s new with you?” Like clockwork, every morning at 8 a.m. Miles called. In the beginning, Alex had remarked on the odd time. It was around midnight on this side of the world.  _ ‘That’s when I settle into bed and nobody’s left to interrupt me,’ _ Miles had explained. Alex liked that Miles reserved the final minutes of his undivided attention for him. 

“A social case?” Laughter. “What’cha do to deserve that?” 

His index finger tapped on the edge of the plate. At the sight of the muffin, he moved his head from side to side, crestfallen.  _ Sugar-free? _ Who’d do such a gruesome thing to a poor, innocent baked good? “Apparently I’m lonely and depressed.” 

“Are you?” 

Even though Miles’ words were mocking, judging by his tone, Alex didn’t want to risk anything and decided to quell any burgeoning worries that might develop right at the root. The last thing he wanted was for Miles to waste what little spare time he had troubling his mind with concerns about Alex. Besides, there truly, earnestly was nothing to be concerned about. He was neither depressed, nor desolate, nor lonely. 

“Nah.” He didn’t need therapy. He needed an extended vacation! He was fucking annoyed with his job at the moment. “Just bothered, I guess. I’m beyond ready for a break. I’m tempted to sneak into your mansion and spend my weekend poolside!” 

“I’d say do it,” said Miles, audibly amused, “but my parents are having a big garden party this weekend. Your parents are invited as well. And just a little warning, they ordered tons of wine. You really don’t want to see that, so…maybe wait for next weekend. Who turned you into one, though? Janine? ‘cause she texted me, asked about my life here, and wanted to know what my address was. Are you sending me something?” 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Not that I’m aware of.” He’d have to ask her about that, later. “How’s the hunt for office space going? Signed the contract yet?” Miles had found a beautiful, old warehouse that he’d wanted to turn into a modern office space, but the guy selling it had found out that Miles was the loaded kind of buyer and now tried to make the sale of his life. 

“Meh. I really want that space. But also, I’m not prepared to pay what he’s asking. We’re having a meeting with the agent tomorrow, to look at a few more options. There’s an unfinished and abandoned construction site that we could take over and…” Alex heard a loud yawn. “Sorry.” 

“Hang up.” As much as he wanted to keep him on the phone, he knew his days were long and tiring. “Go to sleep!” 

“Not yet. Forget about my boring day. Tell me more about you and Janine. You two are like Pinkie and the Brain.” 

“We are not,” laughed Alex, amused by the image. “She has invited me to join her and friends for drinks tonight. It’ll be an experience, I’m sure! Been a while since I’ve been in the company of that many women.” 

“I’d give anything to witness it! Are they trying to set you up?”

“God, I hope not! But she does believe I’m seeing somebody, thanks to the hickey situation, so, fingers crossed.”

“Give me a call when you’re home. I want to know how that goes!” 

“Will do.” 

“What else is on your schedule today? Any more meetings with the Grand Duke Of Arrogance?” 

A snort from Alex. “That’s planned for tomorrow. My lawyers reached out to his lawyers and now he wants to, presumably, punch me –  _ verbally _ , that is – into submission. I should really go to bed early tonight to be able to handle all those vile insults!” Sarcasm dripped from his lips. “Last time he called me a money launderer!” More yawning from Miles. “Seriously, hang up!” 

“Don’t wanna,” whined Miles petulantly, as Alex found to his amusement. “We never talk more than a minute or two. That sucks!” 

They were victims of their busy schedules. He knew. He, too, wished it’d be different. “We’ll talk tonight. I promise. Gives me a reason not to stay out for too long.” 

“Who knows, you might end up enjoying yourself!” 

With Janine? Somehow, he doubted that. 

* 

When Janine had told him that her friends were far from what he’d – admittedly unfairly – assumed, he’d half-expected the evening to be a mixture between a book club meeting and a boardroom discussion about the ins and outs of short term selling. 

Boy, had he been in for a surprise! As soon as introductions had been done with, he’d felt put on the stand. Four women who neither cared nor reacted to the word ‘no’ had pinned him into his seat with well-placed stares while allowing their sharp wit to cut through his resolve to remain sober like a hot knife through butter. 

It had begun innocently enough.  _ ‘Are you single?’ _ had been tossed his way. A classic line, it seemed, in any conversation between strangers who got to know one another. It gradually morphed into more familiar territory from there.  _ ‘Are you looking for somebody?’ _ had quickly become an  _ ‘I might know somebody,’ _ which had then grown, as if on steroids, into  _ ‘What’s your favorite sex position?’ _

Swallowing the rest of what he could only assume wasn’t his first, or second, or even his third Whiskey and finding the temperature much higher than endurable, he loosened his tie and vowed to order his next drink with less liquor but more ice cubes. These women were smart. He needed to keep his wits or else there’d be hell to pay. “That’s what you need to know to set me up, even though I don’t want to be set up?” wondered Alex, recalling his first night with Miles, who specialized in setting people up and who’d asked remarkably little about his sexual preferences.  _ Interesting _ , he thought. 

Andrea, the lawyer on the hunt for a new job – one Alex would absolutely offer her tomorrow, when they were professionals again – once again barreled through his hazy mind with a rhetoric that had yet to meet its own. “Here’s the thing. Attraction and looks and first impressions are all fun and nice, but at the end of the day, it all boils down to sex. Admit it. Think about the last one you’ve fucked. Was the sex good? Was it better than that? Was it bad? Would you think differently about that person if the answer to one would be another? So, for the sake of sparing oneself the disappointment of falling for somebody who can’t fulfill your sexual needs, be upfront about it. Are you the crazy kind or the lovey-dovey kind? I know singles who lean either way, therefore, if you tell me what you desire, I can set you up with somebody who can please you accordingly.” 

_ Can you set me up with Miles? _ Alex smirked to himself as he pondered her argument. “Fair points, I concede. However, the deciding factor remains. I don’t want to be set up.” 

“If you’re opposed to relationships, no judgment there. I got a friend who’s on the naughtier side, who loves the whole no-strings-attached deal.” 

Lily, the divorced, twirled a red curl of hair around her gold-bejeweled finger and smirked. “You mean Elenore? The kinky one?” Wrapped around her back was a tall and dark-haired guy who, if it weren’t for Alex’s lingering fascination with Miles, might have caught more of his attention. Right now, the stranger made an effort to catch Lily’s by kissing her nape. She barely reacted. Poor guy. “She might be too wild for him.” 

He’d no issues with the wild part. The  _ she _ -part was the issue and  _ she’s not Miles _ -part was a deal-breaker. “Like I’ve been saying for a while now. No, thank you!” 

Sally, the business wizard, who’d impressed him with her almost casual knowledge of his company’s successes and failures, snapped her fingers to draw everyone’s eyes to her. “You’re not a single, are you? We’ve been tempting you with, basically, unlimited opportunities. There’s nary a guy, or woman, who wouldn’t have faltered by now. Admit it, then. Who is the lucky chick? Janine mentioned a divorced dog-lover in dire need of a dye-job?” 

He snorted. It was startling how well-informed these veritable strangers were about his private life. “There’s nobody. That’s the truth.” 

The lawyer perked up. “There! His eye twitched. We’re getting closer. If there  _ is _ nobody, it doesn’t mean there couldn’t  _ be _ somebody. Are you in love?” 

“Whoa,” interjected Alex instantly, hands raised. “That’s a topic we should leave for another night out.” That was one he’d have to deliberate in private, with himself, before he’d even consider speaking about it. Love was quite a different ball game than dating and having sex. Not only that, it wasn’t necessarily one that mixed well with a pre-existing marriage. 

Sally reached for her drink, clinked it against Alex’s miraculously full glass, which he’d not seen arriving. “Bullseye. Right? There is somebody. I bet it’s the ever-annoying ‘complicated’ case.” 

Well. 

Lily chimed in. “You can tell us, you know?” 

“Or not,” murmured Janine. She leaned over, startling Alex when she touched his arm. “Want coffee? You need coffee.” 

Alex blinked. “In a bar?” Besides, he wasn’t  _ that _ drunk, was he? 

“He doesn’t need coffee,” announced Andrea, flinging a quick grin Janine’s way. And if he’d been a little less inebriated, he’d have realized that the strangely amused look on her face should have been his warning sign. “You said he needs friends. We’re friends. He can trust us.” She addressed him directly. “You really can. Be vague if you must. But do tell us. What’s so complicated about it all? I mean, between the four of us girls, there’s hardly a case of ‘complicated’ that we haven’t had before. Maybe a woman’s perspective can be of help.” 

What was the harm in a few vague details, right? And he did feel oddly entertained by this whole conversation. Why cut out of it now? A hefty swig of Whiskey later, Alex leaned back comfortably. “He’s married…” 

* 

Alex sat on the edge of his bed, clutching his head in both hands, groaning and grunting in pain as he struggled to recall where he’d last seen the bottle of aspirin. Damn those women to hell! They’d fucking filled him up and made him confess to shit that – God, he barely remembered half of it! With utmost attention in an effort to not move too fast, he traipsed his gaze to the side of his bedroom, glancing at the brightly illuminated red digits on his alarm clock and let out a sigh of relief. Barely eight. No meeting before eleven. Good. He could take his time this morning and he definitely needed time! 

First, he had to find some pain killers. Then he’d have to remember in what direction his bathroom was and what one did in there once one found it! He had dim recollections about water and soap being used for something. 

A blaring sound cut through the quietness. A ton of pots and pans hitting a metal floor, or something close to that. 

Alex tensed up, winced, and quickly grabbed the phone that innocently chimed next to him, hitting the button that this rude device told him to touch. “Yes?” Hearing his own voice was grating enough, so he was thankful that the person on the other line made an effort to speak quietly. 

It sounded familiar. Warm and gentle. Like a tender caress along his cheek. “Got a headache, don’t you?” 

“Who is this?” 

“You used to call me Miles. Last night, not so much.” Breathy laughter filled the air. “Don’t get me wrong. I quite like my new nickname.  _ Supercock _ . What an ego boost, let me tell ya!” 

Oh no! It hadn’t been a nightmare. He had called him last night. “What else did I say?” Though the real question ought to be,  _ ‘Do I really want to know?’ _ “Spill it, how bad was it?” 

“Not bad,” said Miles in a tone that left no doubt about the ‘but’ that would inevitably drop. Alex could virtually see that rakish grin on his face as he clearly delighted in his humiliation! “It was funny.” 

“Come on!” 

“Look,” Miles continued, his voice low and restrained, “I don’t think you’re in a state in which you can handle what you told me last night. Rest assured, we’re still friends. And when your headache, which I’m sure is killing you right now, subsides and you feel up to it, ask me again. In the meantime, I’m calling to warn you. From what I gathered last night, you told a lot to your new circle of friends. This is a heads-up, so to say. Tread lightly, Alex. Drink plenty of water. And, coming from somebody who works in the tech sector, heed my warning: Better delete that picture you sent me last night.” There was a chirpiness to his words that Alex found most uncalled for. “Later, Al!” With that, he hung up. 

Mortified, scared even, Alex opened the gallery app on his phone, squinted against the brightness in front of him, only to drop the device entirely – in shock. “Jesus Fucking Christ!” Hands went to his face and he groaned into them. What had he done?! 

* 

There was a phone conference that he’d participated in from home. Then he’d written an email to Janine to inform her that he’d take an extended lunch break – also at home – and would only step in to the office to meet with Edward, who was due at half-past three p.m., which meant the conceited prick would arrive around three. Shortly before three, Alex set foot into the building, hurried into the elevator, only to short-stop in front of his office door when the uncharacteristically demure sounds of Janine’s voice reached his ears. 

“Oh. You’re here, then.” 

Not turning around, too embarrassed to face her, he grabbed the handle of his door and opened it. He wasn’t entirely certain, but from the few bits that he remembered from last night, he’d acted far from the professional that he pretended to be during the day. “Can we talk? Quickly?” Alex neither wanted to, nor felt particularly equipped for the whole thing, but he’d rather rip that band-aid off as soon and as fast as possible. “Please?”

“Um…okay.” 

Weary feet carried him inside. He’d yet to meet her eyes as he shrugged out of his jacket, to sit down. His whole body weighed a ton. Every limb was suddenly made of bricks. There was a persistent and dull drum in his head that he knew would get worse with each second that passed and as he snuck a glance at his assistant, who sat across from his desk, looking equally uncomfortable, he sunk his forehead into his palm. “Be straight with me. How much of an idiot did I make of myself?” 

“It’s not that,” she began, choosing her words carefully as she continued. “You were very drunk. There’s no denying that. We all were. And we should never be drunk together again!” 

“Definitely not,” agreed Alex whole-heartedly. 

“However, you said a few things that, um, might not have been public knowledge before.” 

Eyes squeezed shut, Alex grimaced. “Like…?” 

“I kinda already knew about you and Miles.” A solid blush warmed her cheeks. “I had no idea, though, that your sex life was that good.” 

There’d been a lingering suspicion that he’d mentioned Miles a time or two. This was confirmation. “I don’t think a one-night stand counts as good sex life,” muttered Alex. “Wait, how did you find out about us?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“No.” At the moment, he hardly cared. 

“Was it really just one night? ‘Cause—” She stopped once he’d gathered enough strength to glare at her. “Sorry! My friends are trustworthy. I told ‘em to keep quiet about everything and believe me, they won’t say a word to anyone. Your secret is safe with us. And they do feel bad. They did deliberately fill you up. That’s my fault. I told ‘em you’re kind of…boring.” Janine raised her shoulder guiltily. “I had no idea that your private life is so interesting! And when you began spilling all those details, the whole thing kinda derailed and, um, anyway. I’m really sorry. Please don’t fire me. I’m just now beginning to like you.” 

It would be uncalled for to fire her for his own stupidity.  _ He _ was the one who should have known better and watched his alcohol intake! “Why are you beginning to like me  _ now _ ?” asked Alex absentmindedly as he tried to sort through all that disarray in his head. 

“Not now, per se, but recently. When I started as your assistant, you were this stuck-up assh—  _ boss _ , and you constantly let me know how busy you were. You practically buried me with demands and, as you know, I don’t like working weekends.” She rolled her eyes as he rolled his. “Everyone’s got a pet-peeve. That’s mine. But I’m learning that you really are busy. You do a lot of stuff that you could easily dump on me, yourself. Plus, being secretly gay does add a bit of charm to you! It certainly explains why you’re not too big about going out with the jocks and such. Can I just point out that I’m totally rooting for you and Miles? You’d be incredible together. And I’m not just saying that because I’m hoping that once you two get married, I’d get to be your maid of honor! Designer dress and all.  _ Alexander McQueen _ is definitely a name you and I should revisit at that point!” 

“Why?” asked Alex, struggling to keep up, confused about the unexpected and nonsensical mentioning of the word ‘marriage’. “That a friend of yours?” 

Janine smiled with a mixture of kindness and pity. Alex resumed his glare. “Aw, you’re such a baby gay. We’ll get there. Want an aspirin? You look like you could use one.” 

“Yes.” That’s the reply he settled on. There were a million and one things that he’d have loved to say instead, but today, in his current condition, he was in no shape or form to meet the restless and fast eloquence of his peculiarly grinning assistant. “Better make it two.” Eyes glanced at the time. “And if the Prince of Bite-Me is waiting out there, send him in, would you?” 

“Will do.” She rose to her feet. “Alex…some drunken admissions notwithstanding, I think it was a good thing you opened your heart to somebody. If you want to talk, I’m here. And, for what it’s worth, being hungover and snarky suits you.” 

“Leave now.” 

“Fine.” 

“Turner,” barked Edward the Arrogant a moment later, bypassing greetings or even a knock. Striding inside, instantly giving himself the reigns over Alex’s office, he sat down on the couch, legs spread. Arms stretched wide to each side. “You sent over a contract. You sent it to my legal department, not to me. Why is that?” 

“I had my legal department deliver a legal document to your legal department,” countered Alex with the patience of somebody who’d never heard the word, let alone cared for its meaning. “It was a move to save time. You don’t have the money to keep operations going. You need to act fast, now.” 

“Nonsense.” He took off his hat, tossed it to his side. “Time is mine to make do with as I please.  _ South London Steel  _ is an historic institution. People are in awe of our legacy, our pristine history of flawless leadership, our—” 

“You are dead meat, decaying roadside, as the vultures circle around. You’re not what you used to be, anymore. The second you come to terms with that, the better!” Maybe it was harsh. Maybe he spoke with less sympathy than he normally did. And maybe he should have postponed the meeting to a time when he wasn’t suffering from the worst hungover since his teenage years! Then again, maybe it was what the man needed to hear. And he’d arrived on just the right day to receive some unforgiving truths. 

Silence hung between them. 

A curt knock, then Janine slipped inside to hand Alex a glass of water and two aspirin. “Thanks,” he said before she vanished from the office. He swallowed the pills, finished the water, and leaned back, directing his gaze out of the window. The sun was bright. Harsh, almost. Its rays were intense and they brought along too much light, in a sense, too much attention to some spots that would be better served with darkness. 

Eventually, Edward broke through the quietness. “There’s a flaw in your logic.” 

Alex sighed, annoyed. “That being?” 

“You think me at fault for holding dear the reputation of my company. A reputation that was built on the backs of a long list of simple workers, people who labored harder than you and I ever will. You find me inadequate to run my company? I find you unsuitable to run yours. You find me old and unfit. I find you unreliable and smug. You sit there, jacket off, visibly hungover, presumably from partying. In my youth, I had to be at the docks before sunrise day after day, to watch my father greet every single worker as each started their shift. You fell into this position of great power over too large sums of money. A bit of luck and a good education, probably. Where’d you be if not for that? I had a good education. It was worth nothing. All my life, my father mistrusted me. I blamed him ‘til the day I took over. After that, I mistrusted everyone. My own sons as well. Life is work and little else. We all got our ideas about how the world should be run. Here’s the difference between you and me. Mine has been tested and proven to work. Yours is a game of chance. What’s it that you plan on doing with my company if I allowed you to do as you want? Sell it? Strip my dead body of its profitable parts and discard the worthless soul? Why not take the heart and save it?” 

“What’s the heart, then?” asked Alex, cynical and dryly, yet allowing his idea a moment of fair consideration. “A legacy that’s based on a blurry idea of a past that never existed? What’s the worth of a handshake if the bread cost more than your father was willing to pay per hour? I know the numbers. I know where the profit came from. What other heart is there? A diminished account, once full of stock and estate, emptied to pay off a building that’s crumbling at the edges? A workforce too old and too neglected to face today’s demands? A list of clients who ceased to buy years ago? A bloated letterhead that’s useless to say it kindly? Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to invest, and you’ve done a poor job of checking my credentials if you consider me a vulture as well. I’m not. I’m a realist. I look at the facts and make the cut if need be. I don’t dream about impossible futures. It’s time you wake up as well. It’s my view of the world that has stood the test of time. You want to play a game of chance, hoping that what once was an investment worth making will once more thrive, for no other reason than what? Nostalgia?” 

“At long last, then. You finally admit to that selfish belief of yours that you know better than I do what is best for  _ my _ company.” Edward’s eyes, hard and cold, stared at Alex. It was a look full of accusation and disagreement and resentment. 

Alex didn’t blame him for feeling slighted and maybe it was that which added insult to Edward’s injury: Alex’s pity. “You’ve tried. You’ve failed. Why should I risk a profitable deal, one that would do as much good to you as it would to me?” 

“It is  _ MY _ company,” Edward reminded him, sternly. “I came to you for  _ help _ .” 

“And I helped,” Alex declared, offended that he had to prove, in a way, that he’d done his fucking job! “Maybe it’s the premise of my help that you misunderstood!” Briskness charged his tone, made his words sound like bullets. “I don’t offer a way back. I offer a glimpse into the future. You keep opposing the sell, this will happen: Three weeks from now, the pile of bills that you can’t pay will reach a critical limit. Automatic punitive fines will kick in. The sum total of your company’s worth with no longer match the outstanding bills. Your personal wealth is tied to  _ South London _ ’s demise. The bank will foreclose your estate. That  _ might _ cover the difference. If not, that famed collection of heirloom jewelry and vintage cars will go next. Fucking let me sell! Keep your riches.” 

“Let me express myself in a language bane enough that even you will understand it.” Long legs steadily stretched, and as Edward reached for his hat, then rising to his full height, he threw him an expression so disgusted and affronted that Alex couldn’t help but take it personally. “Fuck. You.” 

“This,” mused Alex somberly, “marks the end of our collaboration, then?” His short-tempered mood made him go for Edward’s jugular by drawling the last words with biting complacency. “So be it. Die your way.” 

Edward left without another syllable uttered. He slammed the door shut on his way out and as Alex mulled over the blatant fact that he’d allowed a little too much of his bluster to seep into this offbeat exchange of ideologies, he wiped his hand over his tired eyes and had to yield to the truth, which was: hungover was not a good state to be in when it came to money. 

“Fuck!” 

If he’d played this wiser, if he’d acted less condescendingly, if he’d not been so goddamned exhausted and cranky, he might have managed to convince him of this sale. But  _ no _ , he had to go and behave as though he was the smartest guy in the room! On a day, nonetheless, when the lesson learned from last night should be as fresh as it could possibly be: He was fucking far from that! 

“Fucking shit!” 

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 14:**

#

“We could double the size of the project,” said Lena. “What if we left London? It’s not an ideal place for a tech company. It never was. This would be perfect. Think about it. We’d raise a monstrous new building, a beacon of innovation, even for Silicon Valley standards. We’d expand across the apps and the websites and go big in all directions. We always wanted to break through the one-billion mark. This could be our chance. And don’t tell me you’re not enjoying your fancy mansion here. You’re a summer person. You throw a fit each time it starts to rain in a foggy old London.” 

Yes. It was true. But, foggy old London had one thing that sunny San Francisco could never compete with: Alex. How strange it was, to consider him in his plans for his future. They were friends, nothing more. Yet, here he was, at the foot of a multi-million dollar investment, holding back because a complicated personal relationship with murky chances of survival was suddenly equally important as a dream a decade in the making. How had that happened?

#

Alex cut through the awkward silence. “Why didn’t you call last night?”

#


	14. The Perils Of Stroh Rum

#Chapter 14 Too Far Away For This Shit

Miles stood in his large and beautiful kitchen, hip leaning against the marble countertop, playing around with the impressively sized coffee maker. In theory, the manual said, this machine offered fancy foam. In reality, the manual required a PhD. in rocket science and the machine was from outer space. Forehead in wrinkles, chosing to do it the old fashioned way, he flopped the fifty-pages heavy manual away and pushed the buttons randomly, until, eventually and to his sheer amazement, he hit the right one. “That’s it, baby! Make me some foam!”

Floor-length windows made up the entire wall facing the large gated garden. Tall butterfly doors stood wide open, allowing the gentle, warm breeze of a summer afternoon to waft into the room. He’d nothing else planned for the day, except going for a run. Then he’d enjoy a delicious dinner, maybe listen to some music and, for once, find some relaxation. As perfect as everything was, however, it lost all hold on him the moment the phone rang.

Like clockwork, the same time, twice a day, each day. At midnight, he'd call Alex. During the day, Alex would call him. They'd chat about their days, fill each other in on random events, exchange jokes and stories and sometimes, they just stayed on the phone without saying anything at all. 

Sometimes, it wasn't about speaking. Sometimes, it was about knowing that the other one was there. They were weird like that. Miles chuckled to himself as he reached for his phone. Around midnight in London. He picked up and, as usual, didn't bother with hello or anything as trivial as that. They rarely ever began or ended conversations, though they did wish each other a good night. Most times, they started right in the center of a never-ending chat. “I miss our morning bagel meetings. The coffee he—”

“Miles!” Alex called loudly, all the way from London, through the phone. “Miles Fucking Kane! Miles Peter Fucking Kane! He of the Liverpool Kanes!” 

“They very one,” agreed Miles, instantly giving up on the coffee maker to pay his undivided attention to Alex's babbling voice that filled his ears. “Are you drunk?” Silly question. Of course he was! He'd told him about his plans to go out with Janine and some friends of hers and despite Alex’s stern vow of not going to do so much as even sip on a drink, Miles hadn't believed his haughty announcement for a single second. The corners of his mouth were tugged up when he asked, “On a scale of one to ten, how wasted are you?”

A pause. A hiccup. “What's after twelve?”

“Oh boy,” snorted Miles, chuckling. “It was that good, eh?”

“Oh, it was,” drawled Alex, sounding hazy and breathless. “Don't you remember? I made 'em blush, hear that?” A giggle. “They tried to make _me_ blush, I swear! But I succeeded in the end. Well. _We_ succeeded. Do you really not remember? Tell me you remember. Say you remember!”

A persistent smile clung to his lips as he hopped onto the counter, riveted by Alex's ramblings. “Remember what?”

“Sex, Miles. Fucking. You and I. Should have seen their faces when I told 'em how you…” More giggling. “That thing with your tongue? That was…phew! Sometimes, I close my eyes and imagine you doing that. In my office. It’d be insaaaane. You’d bend me over my desk, spread my ass and—” 

“I get the idea!” It was a good thing he was sitting down, assumed Miles, swallowing hard, else he might have dropped to the floor when the memory hit. His knees sure felt weak! Inescapably, his mind wandered back to their night. Scenes of all their wild deeds exploded in his head like giant balls of fireworks. “That's…uh…you told that?” He wasn't worried it or put off, rather, he was baffled to hear that he'd done so. Shocked, basically. Alex might be daring and rash at times, but he was fiercely private.

“Haaaad to,” stated Alex, the letters a little elongated, a hue of defense in his voice. “They left me noooo choice! The lawyer…she's mean. Wann'er to work for me! 'Tis not why I called.”

“To inform me of your personnel decisions?” Miles fought to pull his wayward thoughts back out of the gutter. “Didn't think so. I'm surprised you did call, though. Drunk as you are.” 

“M'not drunk! Just…tipsy.” Laughter filled the air. “'n horny. Was halfway to your apartment, then told the cab driver to go to my place. A'forgot that'cha in Fan Sanfrisco.” 

“San Francisco,” snickered Miles. 

“Said that. Fan Sic— Saf Nan… _Away_. You're a whole bloody ocean away.”

As he listened to Alex trying to wrap his drunken lips around the syllables, Miles began to lose his focus. He ought to hang up, tell him to go to sleep. But Alex was so fabulously honest when he was drunk that Miles found himself devilishly tempted to take advantage of his loose tongue. “Why did you head to my place?” 

“Duh,” countered Alex, unfiltered, “for sex!”

He’d known. Or suspected, at the very least. But to hear it? It was considerably harder to breathe now than it had been a moment ago, found Miles. But he’d asked for it. Gulping, he felt the flames as they licked at his fingertips. It was a warm sensation, a little hot, and the pain, no doubt, already lurked on the horizon. Would he have opened the door for him? Who was he trying to fool, in this head of his? Of course, he would have. He might have resisted sex. Alex was drunk, after all. But he'd have gone for a kiss. A slow and heady and dirty and irresponsible kiss. Eyes drifted shut. “Alex…”

“I couldn't tell ‘em your name, so I had to come up with a nickname. But I might have said your name after all. Sorry. But you’re gonna liiike your nickname!” Another hiccup. 

There were sounds of things hitting the floor and fabric being moved. Miles’ lips quirked as he imagined him wobbling around his apartment. “Will I?” 

“Supercock!” 

He barked a laugh. “Like Superman?”

“Only with better superpowers! Hold on, gotta crawl into bed. Lemme put you on my pillow for a sec.” 

Shaking his head at himself, Miles chuckled. How he'd love to be on his pillow right now. Watch him drift off to sleep. Look at his reddish face. Trace the fine arch of his cheekbones. When the rustling ceased and Alex's husky breathing could be heard again, he said, “I can't believe you've drunk dialed me.”

“M'not drunk,” protested Alex. “And what do you mean, drunk-dial. I always call before going to bed! Can't sleep without saying goodnight. Oh, hey, did you know? I got the fancy silk sheets now. Went'n'bought 'em. But I had to buy 'em in _Veiled Rose_! Lemme take a picture for you.” 

A few moments later, a chiming noise informed Miles that a message had arrived. He opened the image and shook in laughter. Bare, tangled legs were visible between bright pink silk sheets and in stark contrast to it all was Alex's pair of underwear, parts of which he could see. Spongebob boxers. On the bottom hem of the left leg was a name monogrammed with black tread. _Alexander_.

Miles brought the phone back to his ear. “Nice underwear.” He was still struggling to contain himself. 

“Oh.” Laughter from Alex as well. “Should really do some laundry again. Got 'em from my mom last year for Christmas. Funny, right?”

It was funny. And adorable. And cute. And typically Alex. This man was a walking contradiction. He could be insanely clever, harshly arrogant, and deadly serious in one moment, and then, as if flipping a switch, he’d strip that armor of professionality and reveal his quirky humor, his passion, his warmth, his funny underwear… Miles wasn't laughing anymore. He was suddenly struck by just how much he missed him. 

Alex pulled him out of his thoughts. “Almost forgot. I have a question to ask.”

“Yes?”

“A very important one.”

“Alright?”

“What’s alright?”

“Your question!” He was hilarious when he was drunk. “What’s that you want to know from me?”

“Oh. Right! Why didn’t you ask me about my favorite sex position? That should be a deciding factor for you. Andrea made a solid argument. She’s good! I mean, I’m not sure I would have told you. Not then. Later. Did I ever tell you? I don’t remember. What’s your favorite sex position?”

 _Anything that includes you_ , Miles thought frustratedly. He wondered what made him pose the question now, though. “Did I leave you… _unsatisfied_?” He didn’t believe that, since he was fairly certain those sounds couldn’t be faked, let alone the shivers and looks and sighs and— Miles got up and grabbed a bottle of water. 

“You?” More cackling. “Oh no! But when we met. You were asking all those unimportant questions about my type. If you’d asked about me my favorite position, you might have figured out that I’m into men before I told you.”

“Tell me, then.” He was curious. And intrigued. And aroused. And fucking annoyed at being too far away from him. 

“I used to like being on top but with you…” His voice dipped low, it became husky, and yearning. “I like when you’re behind me, pushing me into some wall while whispering naughty things into my ear. Like you did when we—”

“I remember,” Miles let him know. He remembered well. He remembered every last second of it. The gasping moans, the flushed cheeks, the way he’d felt wrapped around him. And he remembered how Alex had felt inside of him. How big he was. How tender his touches had been. How hot-blooded his kisses were. “I miss you,” he whispered, unable to keep it inside. “So much.”

He ought to be happy about being an entire ocean away from him. If they were in the same room right now? Nothing wise would come from that. 

But Miles’ worried thoughts were put at ease by the loud snoring, which droned from Alex’s side of the call, bringing to mind a chainsaw. With one last snicker, Miles hung up, put the phone away, and finished the last of his water. It was fucking hot outside and he was far from motivated or particularly eager, and yet, he forced himself to get up and change into his running gear. He definitely needed to blow off some steam.

*

“I really think we should build from the ground up.” Lena sat on the half-finished wall, on top of some very dusty and dirty lime-sand bricks, dangling her rubber-boots wearing feet freely. Next to her, her new _Burberry_ coat rested, slung hazardously across an insanely expensive _Hermes_ bag.

Miles, who was a bit of a fashion hoe himself, grimaced at the sight. “It’s getting stained.”

She glanced at the coat. “So? Don’t even know why I brought it in the first place. The damn saleswoman made me buy it. She made a huge fuss and blabbered on about how it was necessary for me to get it since it would complete the look and whatnot. Should have seen her face when I told her I needed rubber boots. What am I supposed to do with four-inch heels on a construction site? Which brings me back to what matters. If we do this from the ground up, the new building would meet every single one of our demands.”

Miles adjusted his shades as he glanced around the half-done walls and abandoned tools. “So would one that we rent. If we take this, we’d need months to get it all started up. The permits and contracts alone would stall us for weeks. And…starting completely from scratch? It’d be a year at least before we could even consider moving in.”

“I don’t disagree,” conceded Lena. “But see where it constricts us in London. We’re pressed for office space that doesn’t exist. We can’t move since there’s not a building big enough that has the vacancies to house us.” Her dark red nail plucked on her gold-rimmed shades and she met his eyes with hesitant ones.

He recognized that look. Instantly worried, Miles eyed her warily. “What?”

“The area for the construction site? It’s huge, Miles. Like, massive. Too big for a single company. However, if we alter the plans—”

“Alter how?”

“We could double the size of the project. What if we left London? It’s not an ideal place for a tech company. It never was. This would be perfect. Think about it. We’d raise a monstrous new building, a beacon of innovation, even for Silicon Valley standards. We’d expand across the apps and the websites and go big in all directions. We always wanted to break through the one-billion mark. This could be our chance. And don’t tell me you’re not enjoying your fancy mansion here. You’re a summer person. You throw a fit each time it starts to rain in a foggy old London.”

Yes. It was true. But, foggy old London had one thing that sunny San Francisco could never compete with: Alex. How strange it was, to consider him in his plans for his future. They were friends, nothing more. Yet, here he was, at the foot of a multi-million dollar investment, holding back because a complicated personal relationship with murky chances of survival was suddenly equally important as a dream a decade in the making. How had that happened?

He rolled up his sleeves as he made his way to her wall, coming to rest upon his arms next to her. “I’m quite happy in London. Rain notwithstanding. I hear you, alright? I know that things have to change. We must make a decision about the offices in London. When do we have to close the deal on the area?”

“End of the week,” said Lena.

He nodded. He held out his hand for her, helped her down. “Come on, let’s grab a bite somewhere.”

“Will you give the idea a real chance?” She held onto his arm while grabbing her coat and bag with the other. “You’re different, lately. You used to be much wilder than me. A year ago, you’d have jumped at my proposal.”

A shrug rolled off his shoulders as he carefully guided her towards the waiting car, away from the rubble and the dirt. “Lately,” he found himself admitting, not only to her but to himself as well, “I’ve been thinking a lot about settling down. Taking a break, maybe. Don’t get me wrong. I want to expand. I want all of this. But I want more, too. Something else. More than just work.”

“Oh no!” Her flawlessly plucked brows scrunched in disgust as he felt her nails dig into his arm. “You’ve been spending time with Jamie and his new baby, haven’t you? Don’t tell me you want a baby, too?!”

“Dear God, no!” He’d seen how happy his best friend was with his wife and his little kid. But he was also busy. And exhausted. And covered in baby drool most times. “I offered to babysit maybe once or twice a year. That’s the extent of my interest in children! And I only offered since I felt obligated, being a friend and all that! I don’t want a baby.”

“What then?”

Did it matter, honestly? He couldn’t have it anyway. “Just…maybe I need a pause or something. I’ve been meaning to discuss it with you for a bit, now. This project. If we go all in, I won’t run it. We have to find somebody else. I’m here now and it’s my job and I’ll stay as long as I need to. But I won’t stay for a year.”

“You’re serious about returning to London, huh? Are you in love, or what?”

Love? God, what strong word. “Uh…”

Lena’s eyes went wide. “You are!”

“What? No. I’m not. I’m not even dating anybody!”

She swatted his objections away. “Pff! Whatever. Who is it? Do I know him? Does he look good? Is he sexy? Is he good in bed? Will you share him with me?”

“Lena!”

“Kidding! Gosh,” giggled his wife. “You’re such a prude! Tell me, Miles!” 

For the next half hour, on the way to the restaurant, he proceeded to fill her in on his short history with Alex and how he’d gone from being a proud and convinced single to a guy so madly in… _lust_ with somebody that he’d slipped as hard as kissing Alex in broad daylight whilst shopping for bed sheets.

When he was done, anxiously awaiting her judgment for she always saw things in a much wider perspective than he did, she touched his arm, gave it a gentle squeeze, and smiled warmly. “I’m so, _so_ glad you’ve decided on orange, ‘cause pink does not go with your bedroom furniture.” 

He wrenched his arm away. “That’s your comment?” As the car came to a halt in front of the restaurant, Miles pushed the door open with a shaking head and much irritation. “I tell you I’ve met a guy that I actually care about and all you focus on is the bloody color of my bed sheets?!”

Lena, being as far from a high society lady as the ownership of half a dozen ostrich leather _Hermes_ bags allowed her to be, acted like the tomboy that she was at heart and threw the fancy bag into his waiting arms. He’d been ready for the move. It wasn’t the first time he waited for her to climb out of a car, after all. “What do you want me to say? I’m happy for you. But you make it sound as though a fucking miracle occurred. You fell in love, Miles. You’re not the first and not the last to do it.”

He shoved the bag back into her hands. “I’m not in love.” 

“You called him your _‘unicorn’_ ,” she reminded him, snorting derisively. “That’s a bit corny, gotta be honest. But, like, love and whatever, right?

He wasn’t in love. And he hadn’t called him his unicorn because he was in love. He’d done it because Alex was rare and special and unique and kind and funny and sexy and… With a huff, he spun around and strode briskly into the restaurant. He wasn’t in love! His life was too fucking complicated for love to enter the picture. Alex was the kind of man one didn’t just _find_. Alex was the kind of person one got lucky to ever lay eyes on! He was an extraordinary, remarkable being that—

“You’re so fucking in love,” commented Lena from the side, “that it’s almost disgusting! I just wish you’d met via the new cheating app. That’d be a story I could sell!” Her eyes got dreamy. “Think about it, Miles.” Her arms gesticulated as she spun her tale. “Love app founder Miles Kane leaves perfectly app-matched wife for perfectly app-matched affair! Ooh, I can do better: Miles Kane leaves perfect match for perfect affair!” A squint settled on her face. “No…I gotta work on that. Damnit, being hungry makes my mind work slower!” 

“You’re twisted,” snarked Miles. “Fucking twisted!” 

Somehow, they’d arrived at a table and found themselves equipped with menus. 

Lena skipped the menu, curled her finger and flagged down the retreating waiter. “Water, tall glass. White wine, ice cold. A fresh salad, no carrots, no dressing, with chicken.” Teeth dug into the corner of her lower lip, contemplatively. “I’ve been good this week…screw it. Do big with the dressing! And put a rush on it. He’ll take the same.”

“I don’t,” protested Miles, in vain. “I’ll take a— I don’t know what I want, yet!” He hated going out to lunch with his wife. She always decided for him! Much like his mother, and he guessed it was one of the reasons both of them got along so well.

“He’ll take the same,” she told the smirking waiter. “He’ll just read the menu for ten more minutes and pretend he came to the decision all by himself! So, skip the ten minutes, get us our salads, and we’ll be extra generous with the tip. Thank you!” 

As the waiter left, Miles sat back, arms crossed, mood tanked. 

Eying him curiously, she frowned. “What? Did you want red wine?”

His jaw ticked. “You’re a bulldozer, you know that?”

“Tsk, I missed you, too, darling!” 

“I’m not in love.” He was stuck on that and wanted her to get it. 

“Get over it. Accept it and move on.”

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, and he definitely wasn’t! ‘Cause if he’d be, then that would lead to no fucking good! “It’s sex. Maybe an attraction.” Unquestionably an attraction! Decidedly so! “We’re friends. We like hanging out.” 

“You told me you held hands.” 

“So?”

“Read it from my magnificently painted, matte red _Estee Lauder No. 562 Decisive Poppy_ painted lips, my dear: You’re done for! Hook, line, and sinker. Why are you putting up such a fight? It’s not like you’re just now discovering that you’re gay. I know you’ve had dick before!”

Miles fired off a searing glare. “Would you lower your voice, for crying out loud?!” He snuck a glance around the restaurant, hiding his face in the palm of his hand. Thank God people seemed otherwise occupied. 

She steamrolled ahead unperturbed. “Also, it’s about bloody time you fell for somebody again. I mean, when was the last time? Was I around for that? I don’t remember. I don’t think I was. Oh my God!” Eyes flew open wide. “That’s it. That’s the problem, right? He’s the first one!”

The what now? Miles shook his head, forcefully trying to detangle all the loose threads in his head. His wife had a habit of talking his mind into utter chaos. “He’s not my first. You just said there were others. There _were_ others, I can guarantee!” 

“Love, not sex. Alex is your first real love story, isn’t he? I mean, we’ve met years ago! I totally _would_ have noticed if there had been somebody before! You’re scared, that’s it!” 

No! He wasn’t in love. He wasn’t _scared_ , he simply wasn’t _in love_ . He could concede to the fact that _maybe_ – and that was a big, fat _maybe_ – he was a bit infatuated. He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed spending his time with Alex. And there was a certain attachment that he felt toward him. They clicked. And he wanted to be with him, he’d freely admit to _that_ ! He wanted to kiss him and make l— _fuck_ him. He wanted to fall asleep in his arms and wake up in them because it felt undisputedly nice, rather bloody incredible to do so. But…if he were in love, then…what if it went from being _in love_ to _head-over-heels_ , _I-want-to-grow-old-with-you love_ ? He was fucking married! His parents didn’t know he had a secret sexual orientation that was not what they believed it to be! Alex wasn’t just any guy, he was his mom’s best friend’s son! Practically family. If they broke up, that might ruin her mother’s friendship! Worse, if things did go towards _true love_ with Alex and they made a mess of it, _he_ could end up ruined. Like, _permanently-broken-hearted_ ruined!

He was in the lucky position of having lived his life without ever suffering from that certain, soul-crushing heartbreak and he wasn’t all that eager to change that now! From what he knew, it wasn’t exactly an aspirational state of mind.

 _No_ , decided Miles stubbornly. He was _not_ in love. 

When the waiter arrived with the salad, the water, and the wine, Miles looked his way. “What’s the strongest alcohol you can serve me right now?”

“Miles,” admonished Lena, eyes rolling. 

“We have some locally produced Stroh Rum, but I would suggest mixing it with—”

“Ice cubes,” suggested Miles, leaving no room for discussion or dissenting opinions. “One tiny little ice cube in a big, fat glass of Rum. I’ll take it.” 

Lena shook her head, disapproving and unhappy. “I’m so glad our marriage is fake. I will not watch you puke your guts out later!”

*

Miles jerked upright at the shrill sounds of something ringing in too close proximity. His phone. Ahhh! The noise. His head! Where the bloody fucking hell had he put it? 

“Shit fucking hell in a dumpster,” grumbled Miles, tense, tired, and hampered by a massive bout of headache. He found it, finally, at the foot of his bed. 

Bed? 

How the hell had he ended up in bed? As he answered the call, it occurred to him that the sun was up and he was still in his suit from earlier. Was it _later_ or was it…? What day was it? What time? Where the hell were the painkillers?! Clutching his head with one hand, he brought the phone up to his ear with the other. “Hunh?”

“Miles?”

“Who?”

“No…it’s Alex. Are you okay?”

“Alex?” That name sounded familiar. It was too bright in the room to think properly. “I gotta turn the sun off. Hold on.” Eyes squinted around the room, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. How did the off-switch for the sun look like? Was it a button or a remote?

“Miles?”

“Who is Miles?” He took the phone away from his ear, glanced at it, then put it back. “Wait…I’m Miles. Are you Alex?”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, are you high or what?”

Jesus? Who was that guy and what did he have to do with anything? Too many names were floating around in his head at the moment. “Gotta lie down for a bit.” He dropped back onto the mattress. “I got a question. What day is it?”

Whoever was on the phone scoffed hard and with little sympathy for his painful state, noted Miles to his profound dismay. “Wednesday,” said the voice gruffly. 

“So, yesterday was Tuesday.” Yes, that was useful information. Eyes tightly closed, his headache began to ease up. It was still bad, but not as crippling as it had been a minute ago. “What time is it?”

“Seriously, what did you drink?”

“You sound annoyed,” remarked Miles, confused. Slowly. Speaking wasn’t an easy task just now. “Am I annoying? I might be. I can’t tell. I remember being a restaurant. There was salad, but it was bad. And Stroh Rum. I think that was worse. Alex, am I talking to you?”

“Yes,” said Alex, his voice hard. 

Miles grunted. “You sound weird. Did you drink Stroh Rum, too?”

“Why did you drink it?”

“‘Cause Lena said I’m in love with you. And I’m not. That would be stupid. Like, why would I be, right?” Trying his luck with the sunlight, Miles blinked. “Shit, the sun is still up. Was there a reason you called?” He waited for an answer, but he was met with nothing but static sound. “Helloooo?”

Alex cut through the silence. “Why didn’t you call last night?”

“Well…I don’t know. I just found out that today is today. I can call tonight if you want?” 

“If I… You know what? Don’t bother.” 

The line went dead. 

Miles once more moved to stare at the device in his hand. Strange one, that. He could have sworn he’d just spoken to Alex. Or not? His eyes felt heavy and his head felt full and dense and it hurt. Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe he should try really hard and dream something else instead? Tossing the phone away, rolling over, he soon found himself drifting off into peaceful darkness. 

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter** **15:**

#

How on earth was he supposed to express that he’d been hurt to hear that Miles found the idea of being in love with him ‘stupid’ without opening himself up to the fair rebuttal question that was ‘how do you feel about me?’

How was he supposed to say that it hurt without automatically admitting to his own lingering, complicated, undefined emotions?

“Alex?!” Miles got impatient. 

“You shouldn’t have called.”

“Why the fuck not? As soon as I get back, you and I will have a long chat about your fucked-up habit of running away from shit,” roared Miles, only to falter and let his frustration show. “I’ve run out of options, Alex. What else was I supposed to do?”

#

“I won’t say it on the phone, Alex.”

#


	15. What Are You Saying?

**THANK YOU! Thank you so much for all the kind words and kudos. I don't say it often enough but I hope you know how much I appreciate all your lovely feedback! ❤️**

**15**

_“For fuck’s sake, would you PLEASE pick up the damn phone?!”_

Alex hit ‘delete’ and Miles’ message vanished from his phone in the same way that all the other ones that had come and gone before it did. For close to two weeks, they hadn’t talked. Miles had texted, called, emailed, and even gone as far and brought his mother into the picture. But, even in the face of all this effort, Alex remained committed to keeping his distance from him. In the beginning, he’d tried himself at being the bigger person. Day One after Miles’ flippant and careless dismissal about having any sort of deeper feelings toward him Alex had replied to Miles’ eventual text of _‘You didn’t call…’_ with a vague _‘I’m busy.’_ That, then, had developed into, _‘Will be busy for a while.’_ Until, eventually, at the end of Day Two post-call Alex had simply stopped replying altogether. Maybe he was childish. Maybe he was stubborn. Maybe he was making a huge thing out of nothing, but Miles’ words, his nonchalant, condescending, brusque remark that the mere idea of him feeling anything resembling love toward Alex was stupid and nothing else had not only cut deeply. It had cut into a muscle that was just now developing and therefore immensely tender and fragile.

For now, Alex wanted to lick his wounds in peace. Peace, in this case, was the occasional spare second of free time when he wasn’t working overtime. After having acted colossally idiotic and having stomped around like a stabbed, charged elephant in a store filled with intricate bone china his biggest, possibly most profitable, and certainly most prominent client had given him the finger and strutted out of his office. Ever since then, Alex had moved heaven and earth to get him back into it. That included a grating and excruciating apology, hand-written, on actual paper, an enormous gift basket to Edward’s wife – a _thank-you_ for her invitation to their summer garden party, which had yet to arrive and which he thereby more or less forced her to extend to him – and four groveling days which he’d spent reworking the proposal he’d already sent to him. The new one was less ‘sell’ and slightly more ‘sell, _but_ …’

The door to his office flew open. “Hey, I’m taking an early lunch break. Want anything? Salad? Smoothie? Vegan wrap?”

“How about a knock before you enter,” barked Alex, ill-tempered as he was. Her lack of an answer made him glimpse her way. Janine veritably beamed at him – that was, not at him as Alex noted upon closer inspection. She beamed at her purse. A grunt slipped from his throat. “Hellooo? Boss to assistant? JANINE!”

“What?” She snapped out of her fascination. With both arms wrapped tightly around the handbag in front of her, she grinned. “Sorry, what did you want?”

“A sandwich, and don’t you dare bring a salad.” Eyes rolled. “What’s with that thing in your arms? You hiding diamonds in there or what?”

“This baby doesn’t need diamonds. It _is_ a diamond.” She proudly presented it to him. “It’s the _Louis Vuitton City Steamer GM with red handles._ ”

“Ahh,” he drawled, wildly unimpressed. 

“It’s new! Like, brand new! Barely out.” Hands gesticulated theatrically as she presented it like somebody would show off a car at a motor show. “The snotty new PR walking billboard that you hired and who keeps showing off her second-rate, last-season Fendi cross-body almost dropped her soy latte when she saw it!”

He had not the slightest idea what she had just told him. It might as well have been Chinese. But for the sake of getting her to leave his office, he decided to nod and pretend to understand just fine. “Good for you?”

“Better!” A squeal bubbled from her mouth, so loud that it actually startled Alex. 

He gave up working, tossed the pencil away, and sighed. “A sandwich,” he repeated, half-convinced he was stuck talking to himself, hungry and tired. “That’s all I want.” 

“Yes, yes,” she waved him off. “But hear this: The trophy wife that Roger got himself came by this morning and she totally saw my bag. Ellie, Roger’s assistant, told me that Darleen, his accountant’s secretary, whose sister is a personal shopper for somebody on the low end of the royal line of succession, got a call from her in like a second and that barely one-sixty tall wannabe-blonde who inhaled too much box-dye demanded to know – I quote – _‘how a measly little assistant could afford herself a bag like this, let alone buy one if it’s hardly out’_ . Ahhh! Oh, that reminds me, I got this _very_ important call on hold for you. Just press the blinking button on your phone. I’m out. Sandwich? Got that! Toodles!”

His head was spinning by the time his assistant, the Tasmanian devil, had swirled out of his office. Blowing out a long breath, Alex picked up the phone. “Turner.”

“Bloody asshole!” 

“Miles?!”

“You’re fucking unbelievable, do you know that? You’ve been dodging me for almost _two weeks_ now. I’m fucking stuck here and there isn’t a damn thing that I can do to change that. And believe me, I’ve been fucking tempted to fly home and bloody hit you! But this fucking building and – whatever! Why the fuck aren’t you taking my calls anymore?”

Slowly, at a snail’s pace, the last two minutes replayed in front of his inner eyes. Frame by frame, line by line. _Louis Vuitton._ That name sounded painfully familiar. He was fairly sure he owned a suitcase from that brand. He remembered ‘cause a few months ago, he’d needed a new one and he, perpetually busy that he was, had ordered Janine to get him one. It had taken her half a bloody day and when she’d finally come back, stoked as a wildfire, with a gaudy one made of brown leather covered from top to bottom with ridiculous little monograms, Alex had popped a vein. When he’d seen the bill, he’d been a hair’s breadth away from dropping dead. 

So, her new bag was the fancy kind. The expensive kind. Alex knew what Janine was being paid. And as he added up the clues, he dove his forehead into his palm and asked, somberly and purely for confirmation purposes, “You’ve bribed my assistant with a handbag so she’d make me pick up?” He’d been very specific when he’d warned her that Miles would sink to such tactics.

“Yes,” stated Miles, lacking all remorse. “And you should feel flattered! Do you have any idea how much money that fucking thing cost me? I actually had to call in a favor to get it!”

He made a vague mental note to look into this whole area of designer handbags as a potential commodity to invest in. It appeared those odd items were peculiarly popular. But for now, he had other things on his mind. The all but invisible dent in Miles’ spending account wasn’t one of ‘em. “So?”

Miles took a harsh and, Alex was sure, deliberately audible breath. “Know what would help a lot right now? If you fucking told me why you’re pissed off at me!”

Try as he might, Alex couldn’t admit it. If Miles were to ask him directly about the comment he’d so casually tossed around, Alex could confirm or deny it, but bringing it up was an entirely different problem. How on earth was he supposed to express that he’d been hurt hearing that Miles found the idea of being in love with him ‘stupid’ without opening himself up to the fair rebuttal question that was ‘how do you feel about me?’

How was he supposed to say that it hurt without automatically admitting to his own lingering, complicated, undefined emotions?

“Alex?!” Miles got impatient. 

“You shouldn’t have called.”

“Why the fuck not? As soon as I get back, you and I will have a long chat about your fucked-up habit of running away from shit,” roared Miles, only to falter and let his frustration show. “I’ve run out of options, Alex. What else was I supposed to do?” His voice was quieter now, but the absence of anger made room for sadness. It made Alex wonder, did he really not know? Had he been so fucking wasted that he didn’t remember? “Tell me what happened,” begged Miles. “Tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it! But you need to tell me! Please!”

“Can’t you imagine?” countered Alex, beleaguered. “I mean…” Leaning back in his chair, he struggled to say as little as possible but still revealing enough. “The call…what you said?”

“ _What_ did I say, Alex?”

“Why were you so fucking wasted so begin with, huh?!”

He needed a few moments to reply and when he did, there was hesitation in his voice. “Lena said something,” confessed Miles. “Something that…it threw me off, alright? I didn’t want to hear it. And then… Shit, there are all those decisions that I have to make and they are decisions that are much bigger than I imagined! It’s complicated and I wish I could explain it to you… God, Alex, have I insulted you or – I don’t know. Just tell me!” 

Damnit! Miles had no fucking idea, did he? Alex swallowed hard. The urge to hang up was almost overpowering, but the damaged, injured part of him craved to let him know what he’d done. Gathering all his resolve, he caved. “Did she tell you that you’re in love with me?”

Silence. 

“I told you that?” asked Miles after a beat, stunned, almost startled. His throat sounded dry and his words came out timidly. 

“Right before you added that the idea was stupid and that you couldn’t imagine _any_ reason why you would ever feel that way. So, yes, you told me quite a bit. But don’t you worry,” added Alex, making a hard effort to keep his attitude under wraps, yet failing miserably when his tone came out bitter and sharp. “It’s not like I had my hopes up. Though I will admit, it did hurt to hear that you found the simple thought of it so thoroughly ridiculous.” 

“Did I really say it like that?” Miles appeared doubtful; torn and thrown off. “I can’t imagine that I did. Then again, I was a mess.” 

Time ticked by and neither one said a word. Alex’s thoughts drifted back to the call and he wracked his mind in an attempt to restore the memory as accurately as possible. What had his precise words been, then? It was a blur, now. A scrambled mix of a faulty recollection and mutilated pride. “Maybe you said it differently,” allowed Alex eventually, wishing what he said wouldn’t echo as heartbrokenly as it did. “But the gist of it remains.” 

“That I’m not in love with you? That’s what you think is the gist?”

“Isn’t it?” Alex didn’t know what other conclusions to draw. 

“I shouldn’t have called it ‘stupid’,” conceded Miles readily. “I apologize for that. I don’t remember what went through my head at that moment. But I doubt it’s far from what’s in my head now.”

He didn’t deny it, then. Alex’s spirits plunged even further. “That being?” He didn’t want to care and yet he did.

“What if I had said ‘impossible’, instead of ‘stupid’? What if I had said ‘impractical’? What if I had said ‘inconvenient’?”

The implication sank in. Stiffening, tensing up, unprepared for the unspoken revelation that suddenly hung in the air, Alex sat up. “What?”

“I got drunk because my wife told me that I’m in love with you and that idea scared the shit out of me. It still does! All I want to do right now is fly home and spend time with you. I don’t even care if you make me dig another hole. It’s all I want. But I’m fucking stuck here. There’s a mountain of unresolved problems between us. There are a million things that I want to tell you. Alex, I…I hurt you. I’m so sorry about that! So, so sorry!” 

Alex had barely heard the latter part of his words. His attention remained on the confession Miles had _almost_ made. “Go back to…what do you mean with ‘inconvenient’? I mean…I know that word stands for but what are you…like…what? You said you can’t think of any reason why you’d ever fall for me, so excuse me for—”

“I can’t even think about you without fa—” Miles stopped short and Alex heard him curse under his breath. “I won’t say it on the phone, Alex.” 

He felt as though he’d been hit by a truck. He no longer knew whether he was sitting down or standing up. He didn’t sense his legs anymore. The world had tilted without warning, knocking him off balance.

“I mean,” continued Miles, unsteady, “it’s not that I will say it. Or not, I mean. Shit, I don’t even know what I mean anymore! Like, would it change anything?”

Alex tried to regain his footing but the ground beneath him was shaky and he struggled to make sense of all the competing thoughts that fogged up his brain. “Likely not,” he presumed almost distantly. He didn’t know. God, what were they even discussing right now?

They fell back into a long silence. This time, however, it was a little less tense. Instead, it was desolate. 

“I should have…” Alex exhaled deeply, rocked by this whole conversation. “I would like to apologize as well,” he said after a while. “I should have given you a chance to explain.”

“I should have never said it in the first place,” asserted Miles vehemently. “I hate this, Alex. Being away, being stuck on the phone.”

He hated it, too. “For what it’s worth,” replied Alex, at long last allowing a small chuckle to enter the exchange, “you’re almost at four weeks, now. Any chance there’s a return date on the horizon?”

“Maybe.” 

Alex didn’t like the heavy pause that followed. “That a good or a bad ‘maybe’?”

“A persistently complex one. Lena and I are at odds over how to move forward with the company. Not just the new one. But the whole thing. There’s always been this dream of ours to become impossibly big, in a sense. And suddenly we have the chance to be that.”

“That’s not a bad thing, though. Right?”

“Everything comes at a price. There’s an option to move here permanently. Bring all of it here. It’s just…turns out, I’m the one who doesn’t want to stay here.”

As much as he wanted him to succeed and fulfill his dreams, the idea of Miles leaving the country for good was depressing, to say the least. If he had his way, Miles would be home right now. He’d be here. In this office. In his arms. But what claims did he have on him, at any rate? For once, he was grateful that they were on the phone and not standing face to face, as he found himself incapable of even faking a smile when he quipped, “You like London too much?”

“Something like that.” 

“Well, all that rain and the stuffy streets and honking cars can be tough to say goodbye to.”

“That,” replied Miles contemplatively, “and the people you care about.”

Alex blinked. Did he just…? No. It couldn’t be. To include him, to include their odd and confounding relationship, whatever the status of it was, into his plans for the future would be ridiculous. It’d be stupid! Why would he do that?

And just like that, the thought made Alex snort with laughter. There went the words. How quickly they came about. How innocently. 

“What’s funny?” enquired Miles.

“You might have had a point, you know? About me running away from confrontation? I had this thought and…” All of sudden, it became clear to him that for two weeks, while stuck and busy and confused and no doubt stressed, Miles had gone above and beyond to reach him. “I’m not easy, am I?” The idea had never struck him before. He’d gone his whole life without ever reflecting on it. “Like, it’s hard work to be friends with me, isn’t it?”

“Alex…I’m the one who hurt you without even realizing it. You’ve got nothing to apologize for!”

“Yeah, but you _wanted_ to apologize. Or, talk. I’m the one who made you jump through flaming hoops!” He chuckled again, almost comically amused. “I got you to buy a handbag for Janine just so you could get me to answer my own phone! It’s fucking outrageous, be honest!” 

“I’d buy a million handbags to get you to pick up.”

The first genuine smile in two weeks made it to Alex’s face and it wasn’t lost on him that Miles put it there. Here he was, complicated and foolish and a real piece of work. And yet, once again, Miles refused to give up on him. His chest grew tight and suddenly he missed him so much that he felt almost suffocated by it! “Tell me. How much longer will you be gone?”

“A few more weeks,” disclosed Miles, undeniably unhappy. “Last time we spoke…the call… Since then, we closed the deal on the construction site. We’re building from the ground up. And we’re trying to find a team that can run most of it. We’ve rented office space for now and we’re recruiting talent to get the new cheating app running. We’re hunting for somebody to run point on all of it. There are some prospective people. Lena is taking charge of that. I’m mostly dealing with permits and contracts and stuff like that. And I’ve yet to decide on a law firm that will represent us, so…there’s some work left. What about you, though? I really had to beg Janine for help, you know? She’s bloody loyal! Gave me hell for what I did. I mean, I didn’t know what I did and I’m not sure she knows what I said, from what it sounded like,” he said, amused, “but anyway, she really looks out for you! She told me that you were going through a tough time? Want to tell me?”

“What’s to say,” asked Alex, self-deprecatingly. “I fucked up big time. When I called and you were still in your Stroh Rum delirium, I kinda called to vent! So, I was in a foul mood from the start. Perfect storm, right?” Another humbled, hollow laugh. “Told Edward to go fuck himself, more or less. And it did feel good for a second! Until it landed that I’d just lost a big pile of money. And,” divulged Alex demurely, “I _was_ an asshole. I struck below the belt.” 

“But you’re insanely smart. He knows that. He wouldn’t have stuck with you unless he knew you’re a worthy ally!”

“Thanks. He and I, we’re alike. He won’t give an increment and neither will I.”

“If you can’t convince him that your idea is the way to go, why not allow him the victory and charm him into thinking it was all his doing? Let him keep his dignity. You make off with the money,” Miles advised. “Didn’t you mention there’s a summer garden party soon? Go there, play nice and win him over. Tell him his arguments struck a chord with you, even if you have to lie. You’re fucking incredible at winning people over! You’ll be the smartest guy at the party. Everyone will want to catch your attention. Show him that you’re worth a second chance! You’re worth a million chances!” 

“Am I?” It was strange, hearing himself sound self-conscious and burdened by doubt. Alex wasn’t used to that. He excelled at being confident and smug. Why was it so easy for Miles to bring forth this suppressed side of him? And how did he know just what to say to put his worries to rest? How good it felt to talk to him. How his heart fluttered at the words that he spoke so genuinely. To hear him joke around. To revel in the warm embrace of his voice. 

“You won me over,” noted Miles. 

He could practically hear the smirk that he was convinced Miles sported right now. “You were easy,” jested Alex, at long last relaxing back into his chair. His shoulders felt lighter, his muscles eased up, and his mood got better with each word they exchanged. “All it took was a bit of cheesecake and some dirty jokes.” 

“The sex wasn’t bad, either.”

The wide, radiant smile on Alex’s face was instant. “I’d like to think it was better than ‘not bad’.”

“It was…something else.”

Eyes drifting close, Alex nodded dreamily. Absentmindedly, his hand wandered up to his neck, where Miles had once left the much-remarked upon hickey. As he basked in the memories of Miles’ caresses, dimly aware that they were nearly casually discussing sex, he was overcome by curiosity. “You never answered, did you?” His voice was dulcet; muted and intimate. “I was drunk, but not your level of drunk. I know what I asked you that night. I told you mine,” he pointed out, to urge him to admit to his.

A breathy snicker filled the distance between them. “When you’re on top of me,” he revealed, husky and low, as if envisioning the very image he was presenting him. “You’re weighing me down and every sense, every last bit of me is aware of you. You’re everywhere and I can’t escape and I don’t want to escape and it’s…” He inhaled sharply. “That’s the one.” 

Pressing his back into his chair, visualizing the very act Miles had just described, Alex lost the fight. A strained moan slipped from his throat. 

“We need to change the topic,” pleaded Miles.

“We need to fuck,” declared Alex. He didn’t even regret saying it! He fucking wanted him! Screw it all! They’d figure it out. Wouldn’t they? 

“If we were in the same room right now… Staying away from you will be so hard when I get back.”

“Then don’t,” said Alex. He was done. If he wanted him and Miles wanted Alex, why on earth were they fighting it? Yes, it would be a harsh struggle. He’d have to make do with kissing his lips in empty rooms. But, at least, he’d _get_ to kiss him! 

Miles cut through Alex’s resolve. “We can’t—”

“We’ve been slipping so hard, lately. Think about it! We—”

“Alex, I’m back,” announced Janine, tornado-ing back into his office, once again neglecting to knock. “Here’s your sandwich.” She dropped a paper-wrapped bundle onto his desk. “It’s the slim kind. I couldn’t order anything greasy. Leather doesn’t like grease and I wasn’t willing to risk ruining my bag for your unhealthy meal. Anyway.” Her brow plugged up. “Is that Miles on the phone? Still?” A cheeky, sheepish smile made the corner of her lip tug upward. “I’m not fired?”

With an exasperated sigh, he shook his head. There went that conversation with Miles, didn’t it? Defeated, but far from done discussing it, for now Alex sat up in his chair, turned towards his troubled assistant, and shook his head. “No, you’re not fired.” Glancing at the clock on the wall, he gave her an odd look. “You’re back early, aren’t you?” 

Her shoulder rolled. “Can’t eat with a nervous stomach. I was afraid you’d kill me. Or worse, demote me. I’m just beginning to establish my authority over all the other assistants!”

Alex heard laughter on the phone. “I really do like her,” commented Miles from San Francisco.

Grinning, Alex agreed. “Me, too. But that’s a secret.” Then he aimed his direction back at her. “Hold on, what authority?” 

“I’m the boss’ assistant, which means I’m the boss of all the lower assistants.”

He hated to burst her bubble. Nonetheless, he let her know, “That’s not how this works.”

“That’s how I’m making it work,” Janine corrected him, speaking with an air of confidence that was well on its way to rival his own. “This place needs some reform. Seriously, you’re always stuck in your office. You have no idea what’s going on out there! I established some rules that truly made a difference! I set up a time table for lunch breaks to make sure somebody is always on hand for incoming calls. I cut a deal with the travel agency to lower costs for cross-continental travel. I changed the car service. They were stripping you bare with their fees! The cleaning service works an added shift Tuesday night ‘cause, for some weird reason, people are extra messy on Tuesdays and the bins are constantly overflowing. The bike messengers now get paid by PayPal, which saves time and bills, and the money I saved I invested in a masseuse, which comes by every Wednesday and sets up in the empty office at the end of the hall.”

“Wow,” remarked Miles, who’d listened along and who was clearly impressed. 

Alex nodded, stunned. “Hold up, there’s a masseuse coming by?” How had he not noticed? Why the hell hadn’t anyone from accounting told him about her changes? “And what do you mean, empty office? Whose office is empty?”

“Ellen, who runs accounting? She’s off having a baby? When was the last time you spoke to HR?”

“Two days ago,” snipped Alex, “when I got my weekly set-down for treating you unfairly.”

“You should discuss more than that!” 

“Evidently. Uh, thanks for the sandwich. I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Sure. Tell Miles if he screws up again, I’m expecting an _Hermes_ bag. Enjoy your call.” She sashayed out of his office with a saunter in a step and a smirk on her lips. 

“I swear,” admitted Alex, profoundly confounded, “I want to stay on the phone, but—”

Chuckles wafted from the phone as Miles figured, “You also want to know what’s going on in your firm? I get it. Will you call me tonight?” The last bit came out soft and full of eager anticipation. 

Alex was unable not to smile. “I will.” Only now, the time registered in his head. “Wait, it’s the middle of the night over there. Why are you still up?”

“I had to fix this,” stated Miles, leaving Alex without a shadow of doubt that it meant a great deal to him. That _he_ meant a great deal to him. “Can’t wait for your call. Later…”

“Bye,” whispered Alex, putting the phone down and hanging up. His hand lingered there as though touching the device brought him a tiny bit closer to Miles. His gaze darted off, out the window, across the sun-covered city. It had been a while since he’d taken note of the nice weather and as he took in the fine golden tones that made even the dullest stones sparkle with light, his thoughts drifted back to Janine’s remarks. Maybe he’d been busy, too busy, lately. He’d been so focused on Edward, on money, and even on himself that he’d forgotten that running a firm actually included more than wearing the title ‘boss’ as a badge on his lapel. He got up and made his way out. “Janine? 

She stopped mid-sip of her smoothie. Carefully lowering the clear plastic cup, she shrugged slyly. “I really didn’t mean to mess with your private life. But he sounded _so_ desperate and you’ve been miserable for weeks. I didn’t do it for the bag. That was penance for him on your behalf. And it’s not like he can’t afford it!”

Ignoring all of that, he motioned for the drink. “That’s all you’re having?”

She nodded.

“Let’s go. We’re taking another lunch break.”

“What?” Grabbing her beloved bag, she hurried up. “Where?”

“Mayfair,” he said flippantly, pretending not to notice her wide-eyed surprise. “Tell me about Ellen’s job requirements. I know she studied at Oxford for a bit. But other than that, what’s it that she brought with her?”

“Like, zero experience,” Janine was quick to point out. She spun on her heels, bent over her desk, and grabbed a pencil and a notebook, only to hurry after him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. You pick ‘em well. But I studied business, too. I didn’t do it in London and I lack the fancy degree, but I interned a lot! And the one you hire next should really have some experience! She needed me to explain Excel basics to her. At least choose one that took Computer 101.” As they took the elevator down, she tipped the pointed pencil to her notebook. “Where do you want the offer to appear? Online? Or old-school? Shall I talk to HR for some headhunting?” 

“We’ll discuss that in a bit,” he assured her, continuing on. “Forget the degree, then. If we want somebody to do us some good and take charge, we need to offer some convincing perks. What’s it that firms offer these days? Extra days off or…”

“Paid maternal leave, health premiums, financial incentives to invest long-term. Prospective employees like chances to grow with the firm. You need to find a way to make this business of yours, which is running solidly at the moment, grow in the future. People like prospects! Edward is a big client, but there’s…” As they made their way from the elevator to Alex’s freshly washed Aston cabriolet, bypassing plenty of people coming and leaving the underground garage, she lowered her voice conspicuously. “There’s a rumor, or, well,” allowed Janine pensively, “maybe I _accidentally_ overheard you in your office, but that’s not the point. Anyway. Are you leaving? Like, quitting?”

He stopped abruptly, to face her quizzical face with unanticipated surprise. He’d considered it, sure. But the prospect had seemed distant and uncertain, almost elusive. Things had never moved beyond the stage of consideration. “I’d like to,” he admitted. “But not forever. More like an extended vacation. Something like that. Some time off. I’ll keep the company! I’ll remain your boss,” he added jestingly. 

“Good, ‘cause I don’t want Roger to take over.”

“Roger?” Alex squinted. “What’s he got to do with it?”

“Guy has ambition. He’d go for a coup in a heartbeat if he had the means for it.”

The sheer amount of inside information into the ins and outs of his firm was dismaying. Cocking his hip, crossing his arms, he watched her inquiringly. “What else should I know about my people? Who else has it out for me?”

“Everyone, but that’s a good thing. You’re successful. It’d be a shame if nobody wanted to take your priced cheese away from you! Go back to the job offer you want me to put out. Talk money. I know the vague scale of what Ellen makes. Shall I say that income is negotiable or will you pay the same?”

“I’ll pay a bit more for experience. I’m sure her successor and I will find an agreement.” He opened the door for her. “How much of Ellen’s work have you fielded? I’m convinced HR would have reached out. They _did_ reach out, didn’t they? Did you keep it from me?”

“Ellen left last week, so I haven’t done all that much in case you’re worried I screwed up or whatever. I didn’t want to bother you with that. I would have told you. I told HR to be on the lookout for a replacement. Some old resumes are being reviewed. Maybe somebody is still available.”

“Well, I already got my eyes on somebody. It’s just…it’ll be really annoying to see that position filled, since it’ll cost me my assistant…” With a grin, he glanced her way. “Interested?”

“Say what now?” The red-handle designer bag dropped forgotten to the floor of Alex’s car. “Huh?”

“You studied business. You only accidentally became my assistant, didn’t you? To fill in? You wanted to learn the ins and outs of the trade. Learn it by it doing it. The office is yours if you want.” 

“Are you kidding me right now? It’s neither fair nor funny if you are!”

“Janine, would you like to be my firm’s accountant? If it helps with your decision, the job comes with almost guaranteed weekends.” 

“Sold.” Her head whipped around and she stared at him, eyes big, a vibrant smile on her face. “Like, for real? No going back? I’m hired?”

“Swear.”

“We gotta stop at _Louis Vuitton_ , then. I can’t eat anyway. Too excited. But I need shoes for my new job! Pleeeeeeeease?”

There was low, greedy rumble in the pit of his neglected stomach. Maybe it was the weather, or the fact that he and Miles were better than ever, but as he met her round, shining eyes, he found himself astonishingly, scarily, spectacularly agreeable. “Sure.” 

This whole ‘being in love with Miles’-thing was turning out to be dramatically unsettling. It was transforming him into a nice person. What a scary idea! 

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 16:**

#

“Why are you talking to me,” asked Miles lethargically as if what he truly wanted to say was, ‘fucking let me go back to sleep!’. “You should be talking to him right now. You had great plans for this party.”

“He’s ignoring me!”

“Have you sought him out?”

Alex grunted. It appeared as if people had conspired against him! “You sound like Sally, you know?”

“That should tell you something,” Miles volleyed back. “He won’t come to you.”

He knew that!

#

His cheeks dimpled impishly as he texted, _‘Well, what’s your opinion about this? Should I propose to Sally?’_

_‘Do it. Don’t care. Lemme sleep!’_

He sighed dramatically and hit ‘dial’. “You’re in a foul mood today.”

Miles whined theatrically. “I wanna sleeeeeeep!” 

#

The second the text flew off across the ocean the smirk instantly dropped from his face. He looked at the screen of his phone, then up, only to shake his head in disgust as the realization of what he’d just done set in. “Dear God!” It was bloody time Miles came back! He was using emojis to flirt with a grown-up man! He’d sunken so far…

#


	16. A Summer Garden Party

**August**

Alex bit back a yawn as he sat on the impressively uncomfortable white wrought-iron chair, in front of a sparsely filled plate that offered a ‘breezy’ lunch in the form of a handful of herbs that served as decor to something that was supposed to be fish but mostly looked strange. Giving the plate a nudge, moving it away from his skeptical eyes, Alex met the offended sensibilities of the people he shared the table with. He shrugged innocently. “Smells fishy.”

Coughing, clearly masking her amusement, Sally, his date for the event, hit his arm. “Alex! Don’t quip in fine company. These people don’t know humor. It doesn’t go with their outfits.” She flashed him a mischievous grin. “I’d pay good money to see you pull out a chocolate bar and eat it!”

“Don’t tempt me.” He gave her a smile, grateful that she’d accepted his invitation to the Montfords’ annual summer garden party. She’d told him that she’d love an opportunity to meet some people whose contact could one day prove to be useful. He admired her resourcefulness. She reminded him of himself, back when he was starting out, trying to get ahead. “You know,” mused Alex blithely, taking note of her delicate summer dress, frilly and colorful that it was. “Maybe I should have paid more attention to the invite. You and I are the only ones wearing color!”

She gave herself an inspecting once-over and laughed. “Just yellow. I wish I would have gone for hot pink or bright red. Or worse, pants! That would have ruffled some feathers, don’t you think?”

She probably had a point. Surrounded by men wearing cream-colored suits and women wearing matching, tightly buttoned dresses that went halfway down their shins, he in his black slacks and white shirt with the rolled-up cuffs and Sally in her sunflower yellow silk dress did stand out like a pair of clowns at a funeral. And the disapproval of the other guests was palpable. Not that he would have minded, had everything else gone as planned. But the whole thing could be readily dismissed as a waste of time and as his mood soured with each haughty stare aimed his way, Alex was prepared to call it quits. “We might as well go home. We’ve been here for an hour. He saw me, he turned on his heels, and he’s avoided our direction ever since. It’s useless.”

“You’re such a successful guy,” she announced, drawling her words in a manner that reeked with ridicule. “See, we little folks, the small and less accomplished variety, have to put in an effort to get what we want. When was the last time you had to do that, huh?”

What was she talking about? He was here, was he not? Effort made! Besides. “I work up to a hundred hours each week,” he felt incited to put out. He deserved his success. He labored hard for it.

“So do I. Only I have to find clients whereas you pick ‘em from a silver platter. Clients vie for you. They settle for me.”

“I can’t help the fact that my reputation precedes me.” Alex took a sip from the awfully stale wine that was being served and which, after minutes of sweltering in the sun, tasted that much worse. “I’m good at my job.” He was tempted to add that he was known for his long list of stellar successes but in light of the sneer that clung to her lips he suspected a bit of humbleness might be more appreciated. “I offer results.”

“Again, so do I,” she stretched. “Only, I don’t walk around puffing my chest like a gorilla and wait for everyone else to drop in awe at my mere sight. Here’s a novel idea: Go to him and tell him you’re sorry.”

Alex huffed indignantly at her suggestion – one he refused to consider, stubborn that may be. “How much more apologetic do I need to get!” He’d done enough groveling. He’d expressed his regret over how their business relationship had ended. But he wasn’t about to apologize for being smart. And he rejected any act that served no other purpose than to bolster Edward’s already blustering ego. “I’m the solution he needs. I’ve done my part.”

“And where did it get you?” Sally grabbed her glass and got up with a parting, sassy grin. “Fired.” With that, she walked away from their table, leaving him stranded in the company of judgmental strangers. He turned their way. “Anybody know a good joke? No? Figures.” Alex leaned back and pulled out his phone. _‘Are you up?’_ he typed. _‘Please tell me you’re up?’_

No reply.

No indication that he’d read the messages, either.

Alex tried again. _‘Come on, you’ve got to wake up soon anyway…’_

Silence.

_‘Wakey, wakey!’_

_‘Miiiiiiiiiles?’_

The checkmarks appeared. He was up. He’d read the texts.

With a sly smile and fast fingers, Alex texted, _‘Morning sunshine. Sleep well?’_

_‘The fuck do you want at 4 a.m.?’_

_‘I’m bored,’_ replied Alex

_‘Bite me,’_ countered Miles.

_‘Language!’_ Alex was highly entertained by his early morning grumpiness. Miles had a habit of being short-tempered and snappy when he was disturbed before he’d had his first cup of coffee. Alex had come to find it one of his most endearing attributes. Occasionally, he allowed himself the pleasure of poking him out of his slumber just for a bit of fun. _‘Tell me a joke.’_

_‘Knock, knock.’_

_‘Who is there?’_

_‘Sherwood,’_ Miles wrote.

Alex gamely played along. _‘Sherwood who?’_

_‘Sure would like to sleep some more!’_

_‘Hahaha,’_ tossed Alex back. _‘Your wit is at full capacity this morning. What’cha got planned for the day?’_

_‘Nothing. Wanna sleep. Tired.’_

Alex rolled his eyes. _‘Sleep later. Nap. Whatever. I’m at Edward’s. He’s ignoring me. Sally says I’m full of myself. Food sucks. Be nice to me.’_

_‘Want a dick pic?’_

A bout of loud laughter escaped him. _‘You’re nasty when you’re tired. I like it. What if I want one?’_

_‘There goes my sleep…,’_ bemoaned Miles.

A moment later, Alex’s phone rang. He picked up in no time. “Hi. Sorry that I woke you up.”

“You’re not,” stated Miles. His voice was wonderfully sleepy, rasping as he tiredly droned the words.

It brought forth ideas of waking up together, snuggled into the sheets, cuddled into the pillows which would smell of sleep and him. It’d be incredible, starting the day in his arms. Alex was sure of it. Fighting the urge to close his eyes and delve into some naughty daydreaming that included plenty of moaning and little else, he bit his lower lip expectantly. “We’re about to enter week six. Any update on your return?”

“Nope.”

Hope crushed, Alex blew out a deep breath and let his sarcasm take a swing. “Awesome.” He wanted him back. As good and as funny as their regular phone talks and text chains were, he missed talking to him in person. It wasn’t the same on the phone. Like last night. Alex had tried to broach the idea of maybe giving this dating-thing a try, but he’d been woolly and Miles had been slow – to the point where Alex had wondered if he’d played dumb on purpose – and it ended up being a huge waste of time. If he’d been face to face with him, he’d have been able to tell. Then again, if they had been in the same room, chances were there would have been no need for words. He and Miles were very tactile people after all. A kiss or two might have gotten the job done just as well.

A low grumble wafted from the phone. “Why are you talking to me,” asked Miles lethargically, as if, what he truly wanted to say was, ‘fucking let me go back to sleep!’ “You should be talking to him right now. You had great plans for this party.”

Eyes aimed at the ground, he observed as the meticulously cut blades of grass succumbed to the pressure of Alex’s flawlessly polished shoes. “He’s ignoring me!”

“Have you sought him out?”

Alex grunted. It appeared as if people had conspired against him! “You sound like Sally, you know?”

“That should tell you something,” Miles volleyed back. “He won’t come to you.”

He knew that! But… Alex swallowed a groan. It went against every fiber of his being to get up, tail tucked between his legs, and march over there! Why did he have to make all the steps? Wasn’t it enough that he’d made the first one? “It’s not like I don’t have the money to take a year off,” he muttered petulantly. “I don’t need this deal. I’m kinda rich already.”

“You told me your year off included sunning your ass on a yacht and traveling all over the world with it. Trust me, boats are expensive.”

“You got one,” Alex pointed out, testing the idea and Miles’ openness to it. “I could take yours.” If Miles asked nicely, he could even come along, too.

“I told you,” chuckled Miles, “You want it, you pay the market rate. No discounts.”

There went that fantasy. His spirits plummeted further. “You are _such_ a rich person,” ragged Alex, resentfully. “As if being a little lenient to your favorite friend would kill your income! Have pity on me!”

“Well, maybe, if _somebody_ wouldn’t get off on constantly waking me up in the middle of the fucking night, I might be inclined to show some goodwill. Besides, if I hand over the boat, you’re never going to talk to him again!”

“That’s not a bad thing,” expressed Alex.

“Bloody talk to him! And when you’re done, you can borrow my captain’s hat for free,” Miles offered mockingly.

Alex hung up.

“Alexander?”

Looking up from his phone, he was startled to find Edward’s wife next to him. “Mrs. Montford.” He sat up straighter. “What a lovely party you’ve arranged!”

“Would it be possible to have a brief one-to-one? Just you and me? Could you follow me?”

“Absolutely,” he said. Grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair as he got up, he quickly put it on. There was something about the company of this pearl-necklace wearing lady that made him be hyper-aware of his manners.

She led him away from the guests and the chatter, towards the flower beds and the water fountain. “I’ve read your letter to my husband.” Hands folded decorously in front of her, she offered a kind smile. “I hope you don’t mind. You and I don’t know much about each other. I’ve never cared about the company that my husband feels so passionately about. Our sons…he always wanted them to take over. But the lot of them, they got their own ideas and plans for the future. And there’s not all that much left for them to carry on at any rate, am I right?”

“Not much, no,” agreed Alex regretfully. The sun was blistering. Sweat was running down his back and the bright rays were blinding but he ignored his urge to put shades on. If the elderly lady managed, then so could he. “If it were solely the company that’s at risk, I’d say, wing it. Try it. See where the chips fall. But all of this, the entire estate is tied to it. And he can’t pay the bills anymore. Selling is the safest, most rewarding solution.”

“I quite agree,” she let him know.

That, Alex had not foreseen. “You do?”

“And I told him,” she said further, keeping her gaze on the ground. “He will agree to the sale. I made it clear that I won’t stand by while he allows his sentimental attachment to a long-faded idea to take away the house that I raised my babies in. Here’s where I need you to do me a favor, Alexander: You need to make the move. He will not come to you. You need to go to my husband, tell him to take things to the next level, and proceed with the sale. But you need to keep your commentary to yourself. He will be hard to deal with. His whole life’s achievement will be taken away from him. That’s an event that can take a toll on a person in the worst of ways. Don’t remark upon it. Let him vent if need be. But go ahead and do what needs doing.”

Swallow his pride, then. Alex hesitated. “He will sell? No last-moment reconsideration or second-guessing? No faltering at the finish line? If I call the buyer and tell him the deal goes through, I need the deal to actually go through.” He wanted her to understand and he needed her reassurance that she would see to it. His professional reputation was on the line. If he allowed the man to carve at his ego, he wanted it to be worth it.

She brushed non-existent dust from the edge of the water fountain before sitting down. Alex fought a laugh as he doubted the fountain had ever seen as much as a dirty grain of sand. Mrs. Montford carried on. “He’s scared. He doesn’t know the world that will await him once the company is gone. He was raised to be careful and to weigh all decisions with the utmost consideration. He never pretended to be a brave man.” The vague notion of a smile appeared on her gentle face. Despite her age, she had fine features and delicate skin, free of blemishes. This was a woman who had never known a day of hard labor in her life. He suspected she hadn’t made that many defining choices in her life and it amazed him that she was the one effectively making the biggest one for her husband right now. “When he asked for my hand, he told me he’d spend most of his hours in his office. He offered me his devotion, his standing, and his faithful love. And he let me know that he chose me because I was the one most well-equipped for the role of his wife. He’d broken up with an actress shortly before he began his courtship of me. People would have frowned upon him if he’d married her. He never hid that from me. The fact that I wasn’t his first choice. But I was his last. And, that he’s been telling me ever since, I was the right one. So, this is me, proving to him that putting his trust in me wasn’t a mistake. I ask this of you, Alexander: Let my husband walk away with his head held high. Can you do that?”

“Yes, mam.”

“I thank you.” She rose to her feet. “Shall we return, then?” Linking her arm with his, she patted his hand. “You brought a lovely young lady to our little party. I quite agree with your selection. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, she’s a beautiful woman, and she converses remarkably fine. She’ll serve you very well. You share my husband’s attachment to work. You need somebody that will stay out of your way. Somebody who knows and can handle her place in your life. Do ask her soon, lest you want somebody else to sweep her away from you.”

He bit his tongue, nodded in silence, and parted with a polite tilt of his head once he’d delivered her back to her friends. He quickly found his way to the bar, where, to his own amusement, he settled for iced water over liquor. Then he pulled out his phone.

‘I was told to marry a woman who knows her place.’

The first reply was the ‘rolling eyes’ emoji. The second arrived immediately after. _‘Fuck yourself, Turner. I JUST got back to sleep!'_

_‘Keep talking like that and I’ll forward these texts to your mother!’_

_‘I dare you. What do you want?’_

His cheeks dimpled impishly. _‘Well, what’s your opinion about this? Should I propose to Sally?’_

_‘Do it. Don’t care. Lemme sleep!’_

He sighed dramatically and hit ‘dial’. “You’re in a foul mood today.”

Miles whined theatrically. “I wanna sleeeeeeep!”

“Boo-fucking-hoo,” vented Alex. “I’m stuck at this bloody boring party, forced to play nice to a guy who veritably hates and needed to be blackmailed by his wife to talk to me. The same wife who found it necessary to include _obedience_ when listing my future fiancée’s requirements! It’s fucking hot, my suit is drenched in sweat, Sally is having the time of her life chatting with God knows what people, and I’m at the bar drinking water ‘cause I fear drinking alcohol will lead to no good! I’m so, so sorry that I’m keeping you from snoozing on!”

“You’re done?” Miles asked dryly.

Alex blinked. “For the moment.”

“Fucking talk to Edward! Dragging your feet won’t help you. You’re nervous, I get it. There’s a lot on the line. But it won’t get better unless you move your sexy ass over to him and fucking do some talking!”

He grabbed a napkin with his free hand and fidgeted with it, trying not to dwell on the fact that Miles’ casual compliment put a solid blush on his cheeks. “You think my ass is sexy?”

“I’m hanging up, alright? And I’m warning you. If you call me or text me again before you talk to him, I’ll show you how hard to get I can play. Understood?”

The corners of his lips moved up. As much as he hated this state they were in at the moment, he’d come to discover that there were some perks to it. Too far apart to be able to deal with the actual status of their relationship, they had slipped into something almost excitingly ambiguous. Flirty, yet light. Dirty, yet sincere. Alex egged on. “Will ya? I’m tempted to find out!”

It was Miles’ turn to hang up.

Alex’s devilish side got the better of him and even though he would walk over and have that dreaded conversation in a bit, he couldn’t stop himself from sending Miles the ‘winking’ emoji. The second the text flew off across the ocean, however, the smirk dropped from his face in an instant. He looked at the screen of his phone, then up, only to shake his head in disgust as the realization of what he’d just done set in. “Dear God!” It was bloody time Miles came back! He was using emojis to flirt with a grown-up man! He’d sunken so far…

*

“Edward.”

Edward Montford III. drew his eyes away from the person that sat across from him at the table, slowly let them ascend all the way to Alex’s weary ones, only to meet them with a look so filled with repulsion and disdain that Alex immediately considered turning around and leaving out of spite. But he’d come for a reason. And he’d made a promise. Therefore, he endured.

“Turner,” the old man acknowledged curtly. His gaze briefly returned to the guy he’d talked to. “Leave.”

Biting back a snort, Alex observed as the other man, an imposing, tall one full of strength, oozing arrogance, got up mutely only to depart the scene in a quiet and reserved manner. “Servant of yours?” he wondered when he claimed the now-empty chair, not waiting for the seat to be offered. “Acquiescent fellow.”

Edward raised one brow as if to warn him. The old man was no friend of dissenting opinions or criticism of any kind. “What is it that brings you here? Did your need for money win out over your overblown arrogance?”

Alex gulped down his impulse to give him a good portion of his mind, inhaled deeply, and resigned himself to speak only about the somber steps that lay ahead. “Let’s sell.”

Maybe it was a minute, maybe it were five, maybe it was an entire year that ticked by in complete silence. Alex couldn’t say for sure. It certainly felt like a damn long time before Edward spoke up again. And, just as Alex had done, he used as few words as possible.

“How do we proceed?”

“It’s Sunday. Tomorrow morning, you’ll inform the board. You need the vote. They will agree, we know that. It needs to happen before eight a.m. and the moment you have it, you call the bank and inform them. You haven’t filed for bankruptcy yet, so they can’t interfere with the sale. But you’ll let them know that the credits, even though you’re not paying the rates at the moment, will be met in full within weeks. I’ll meet with the buyer, set everything up, and I’ll call you sometime in the afternoon and let you know when and how we’ll close the deal.”

“Understood.”

“Okay.” He nodded once and moved to get up.

But Edward raised his hand to still him. “You talked to my wife. I saw.” He pulled his attention away from him and diverted it to his wife. For the first time since knowing him, Alex noticed something akin to fondness on his face. “She’s tough on me if she feels I deserve it.” Fondness made room for quiet contemplation. “In my entire life, I’ve never entered a room without knowing what would wait for me once I stepped inside. This is the first time. Have you ever done so?”

Alex wasn’t entirely sure if he was talking to him or speaking to himself. Nonetheless, he was taken aback by the honest admission and found himself even more surprised when he responded with the same truthfulness. Settling comfortably, he crossed his legs and shook his head. “No. I prefer knowing the outcome of things. It makes it easier to assess the risks and rewards.”

“Playing it safe,” Edward summed up. “It’s something we have in common, then. I don’t understand your job,” he admitted with unfamiliar, striking earnest. “To me, you gamble.”

He did no such thing. Even though he’d seen no chance of survival for the deal until, virtually, a minute ago, he’d never given up preparing for it. He knew the current rates, the financial situation of the prospective buyer, he knew who’d have to sign off on the deal, he knew the general sentiment with which the press would react to it. And after he’d dedicate some time to it later today, he’d be able to ballpark the sum of money that would change sides during the course of it all. “It is numbers and math. Very little chance. It is predictable.”

The old man offered the briefest, most fleeting of smiles. “In a different time, under different circumstances, you and I might have become friends.” His attention landed on Sally, who hovered nearby, curiously observing them. Alex bit back a grin. “She seems lovely,” Edward said.

“She’s that,” agreed Alex, playing the part of the smitten boyfriend. “Smart and wise and very talented.”

“But is she fit to be your wife? She comes across as…enterprising. Unpredictable. A wife needs to be prepared for everything that her husband requires. A good wife never surprises her husband, since that leads to distraction.”

What awful prospect that was, mused Alex. His phone chimed and he glanced down, finding a new text from Miles.

_‘You’ve ruined my night.’_

Then another one arrived. _‘Here’s a dick pic.’_ Interest instantly peaked, Alex opened the message, looked at the image, and succumbed to laughter. Miles had drawn a dick on a piece of paper, using a sharpie.

“What’s so amusing?” quizzed Edward.

Alex quickly turned the phone around. “Never mind.”

“Consider them. My words. Choose well. It’s not the kind of decision you want to regret one day.” Curling his finger in Sally’s direction, he waved her over. “Young lady. I’ve heard great things about you. Are you an enthusiast about the ins and outs of business?”

“I am that,” she allowed, her voice gentle and yielding. “I’m quite enraptured by it.”

“Are you, now?” He eyed her with wariness. “Such a pretty thing as you, wasting her mind on numbers? Tell me, are you fond of Alex? He needs a good wife by his side.”

Alex winced, ready to interfere, but Sally was faster. “Quite fond of him. I admire his ability to plan for all eventualities and like any proper girlfriend would I rather enjoy that he pays for my trinkets.”

That subservient manner with which she talked, secretly satirizing the very way Edward treated her, made Alex struggle hard to keep from chuckling.

Edward, meanwhile, nodded approvingly. “A man’s job to do so. Turner, Ms. Sally, enjoy the party. Excuse me.”

“You’re good,” Alex declared as soon as they were alone, slightly in awe.

“No point in explaining the world to him. I find it much easier to smile and act docile, only to attack from behind. Speaking of which.” She smiled cunningly as she curtsied his way. “Our date must come to an end. I got a hostile takeover to plan. I’m gunning for his company. See you on the other side, Alex.”

There went the rest of his mood. “What?”

“Told you. I don’t wait for the clients. I take ‘em myself.”

*

Alex laid in his bed, surrounded by graphics, projections, spreadsheets, and a list of potential buyers that could have reached out to Sally. That woman! She’d conned him. She’d tricked him. She’d…done exactly what he’d done when he’d started out! That hubris! Oh, he should have known she was up to something when she’d showered him nearly outrageously with compliments the other night, while out with all the others. She’d posed question after question, digging for details on how he’d landed his first big win. And he, dumb and drunk fuck that he’d been that night, had felt elated! He hadn’t been able to stop himself from revealing all his trade secrets and his little tricks.

The phone rang. Alex blindly picked up, only to roar at whoever felt it imperative to disturb him. “What?!”

“It’s way after midnight. You haven’t called.” Miles sounded saddened. In his usual, goading way. “Should I worry? Have you still not spoken to him?”

“I got played,” snarled Alex, mad at himself for not being smarter. “Sally is trying to steal my sale!” He dropped his head into his pillow lifelessly. “I’m beat, I’m tired, I’m annoyed. And, as it turns out, the Montfords have something in common with my mother! They, too, believe that I’m in desperate need of a wife who can fulfill my needs!” He snorted hard, insulted by the mere idea. “Apparently it’s of vital importance that a woman never surprises her man!”

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” sneered Miles in disgust. “What kind of marriage do they have?”

“Beats me,” said Alex.

“So,” jested Miles, “what’s it that you want in a wife, then? Has it changed since I asked you last time?”

How was it that Miles could so quickly take his mind off his worries? One measly question and here he was, perking up. “You know,” Alex ribbed right back, not even bothering to fight the smile Miles put on his face, “you had some mighty big words back then. About how good you are at finding the perfect match for me. Where are all those candidates, huh?”

“You want ‘em?”

“I do!”

“I’ll have ‘em for you,” teased Miles. “In the morning. A whole damn list if you want! But you should consider this: You’ve had _me_. They _will_ pale in comparison!”

“Ohohooo!” wheezed Alex, outlandishly amused at his cocky statement, which he knew for a fact was as much a joke as he meant it seriously. “You got some high-minded opinions of yourself!”

“You’ve seen my dick pic, haven’t you?” kidded Miles, joining Alex in his laughter.

“It’s a piece of art!”

“Unique and incomparable!” Slowly, bit by bit, the laughter died down. Alex snuggled into his pillow, the phone firmly clutched in his hand, as neither one made any attempts to end the call. Despite there being silence at the moment it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, really. Alex found it reassuring to discover that not speaking wasn’t a bad thing. It was okay.

Eventually, and to Alex’s endearment, Miles did break first. He did most times. Not because he was bothered by the silence. But because he was so very energetic and vibrant and full of life. “It’s not the worst thing in the world, you know? A bit of obedience in a relationship?”

“No?” He doubted Miles had Edward’s kind of obeisance in mind, though. Curious that he was, he asked, “You’d do as I want?”

“In bed?” Miles, Alex had no doubt, was grinning like a Cheshire cat right now. “I’d do anything you want.”

Eyes drifted close as the lingering smile quirked into a dark one. “Anything?” Images sparked his imagination back to life. Provocative, sinful images.

“Well, I mean, there’s no way to find out for sure, is there? But who knows? Maybe you get lucky with one of the other guys from that long list that I will send you in the morning!”

“You’re a bloody tease!” Alex chuckled lightly and when he heard Miles do the same, it filled his heart much like a warm glass of milk mixed with honey would fill his stomach. He didn’t want anybody else. He wanted Miles. And as Alex listened on while Miles began to tell him with much flair and great detail how he was frittering away his free Sunday, in the back of his mind the events of today replayed and pieces of dialog reechoed in his head.

Words like ‘regret’, and ‘brave’, ‘predictable’, and ‘save’. He sure liked that his job was easy to a degree, thanks to his knack for his numbers and humankind’s ever reliant desire to get rich. But that was his job. There used to be a time in his life, long ago, when he’d been brave and adventurous and fearless. It was part of why he wanted to take some time off. To remember that feeling.

He tried to recall when and why he’d changed, but he only drew blanks. Alex smiled into the darkness of his bedroom, now that he’d killed the lights. Miles told him he’d been lazy about his workout and had discovered, horrified, that when he’d gone for a run, he’d broken some serious sweat.

“It’s been too long,” Alex whispered, exhausted from the day. “You need to come home. I’ll get you back in shape.”

“Will you?” There was such deep and rich and alluring tune in the way he spoke. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

And Alex couldn’t wait to kiss him again. ‘Cause that was what he was going to do. He’d grab his head, tilt it, meet his lips and lay one on him! Then, when he’d be done with that, he’d look into his eyes, he’d smile, and he’d tell him that he was ready for some bravery. “Me, neither.” 

“Alex…last night…what you were saying…”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do it on the phone.” It was useless. They’d never find the words to say what needed to be said. He knew that now. “When you get back, we’ll talk about it.”

“Is there all that much to talk about, though?” posed Miles, sounding almost helpless.

Alex pulled the cover further up his body. No. There wasn’t much to talk about. But there was plenty to kiss, thought Alex, as he slowly slipped off to sleep.

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 17: **

#

As Miles waited for the elevator to arrive, his gaze wandered across the marble lobby and out the tall windows that made the walls. Outside, people were sweating and suffering under the outgoing summer heat while in here Miles tugged on his blazer’s sleeves to fight a chill. New Yorkers and their fucked-up obsession with A/Cs. You could put a bloody snowman in the lobby and the thing wouldn’t melt! The doors drifted open and he stepped inside. But as he did, tearing his attention away from the busy streets, he could have sworn he’d seen Alex walk by the window.   
Miles shook his head and snorted. It was getting ridiculous! Pressing the floor’s number, he sipped more coffee and chuckled to himself. “You’re whipped,” he admonished himself. “Bloody whipped!” 

#

Somebody said something. Miles faced the doors, pressed the button to his floor, and waited for the last to leave the cubicle. 

“You okay?” he heard a guy ask somebody else. The same guy let his hand linger on the door, keeping it open. “They’re waiting for us!” He sounded impatient. Miles snuck a glance his way. He wore a suit. He was probably in his forties. And he looked annoyed. “Alex?!”

Miles froze. Eyes went wide. No. It couldn’t be.

#


	17. Yours

Miles loved New York as much as he hated it. The city was energetic and lively and incredibly exciting and when he was here as a tourist with an abundance of time he appreciated all of it. It was a city that had no equal. It was part of its charm. But when he came here for work, only to end up stuck in traffic, pressed for time, stressed to no end, he found New York to be the worst place on earth!

“Bloody hell!” He pulled a twenty-dollar note from his pocket, handed it to the cab driver, and grabbed his bag. “I’m continuing on foot!” With that, he scrambled out of the car, sprinted across lanes, and made for the sidewalk. Half an hour late already and he’d yet to arrive. Perfect!

As he maneuvered the no-less crowded sidewalk, bypassing suicidal bike messengers, smartphone-obsessed zombies, and strange people that Lena had once explained to him were ‘influencers’ – selfie-junkies who loved documenting the sad fact that they bought overpriced coffee for no other reason than to pretend they could afford it when they truly couldn’t – Miles deliberately ignored the irony of it all when he short-stopped at Starbucks to get unreasonably extravagant coffee while firing off a quick text to Alex when he had no time for either of it.

‘ _Haven’t heard from you in over two days. Know you’re busy. Call me when you got time.’_

Ever since Sally had declared war on Alex and had dazzled _South London_ ’s board of directors with her fancy buyer, Alex had buried himself in work. He’d revised numbers and projections, he’d cooperated with his own buyer and managed to raise the offer, they’d met and discussed strategies, and revamped the details. At the moment, it appeared, that Alex and his guy were having a paper-thin lead. But they needed to close soon.

As much as Miles understood it all and as much as he, himself, was busy and low on time-supplies, he still missed their long phone calls and their endless text chains. He missed knowing what his days were like. What might have made him smile. What might have annoyed him.

His phone rang.

“Kane.”

“Hey, it’s me,” said Alex, sounding as stressed and as rushed as Miles was. “Just letting you know I’ll try calling you tonight. Hopefully, I’ll have more time then. I had to take a last-minute trip. Big meeting. I’m calling now ‘cause texting takes too much time. I got to go. Later?”

Shoulders fell. “Yeah. Good luck!”

“You too.” The line went dead.

Miles sighed heavily. He hated this. But _Thank God_ it was Monday already. Come Friday, he’d board the plane, head back to London, detour to Liverpool to celebrate his mother’s birthday, only to at last land in London Saturday night. Then he’d _finally_ see him again! Six long weeks. Seven, by the time he’d get home! The one thing left to do was sign the contracts with the law firm that would permanently represent them in the States and then he’d be done. Initially, they had been intended to meet in San Francisco, but an important mediation kept one of the name partners stuck in the city and Miles had readily suggested meeting them here if as long as it meant speeding things up. Lena would stay in California for a few more weeks. They’d assembled a team of project managers, headhunters, architects, software engineers, and a bunch of others who’d give input and guidance as the building was being constructed. The temporary offices were off to a good start and Miles no longer had a bad conscience for planning his return.

As much of an adventure all this was, he fucking missed Alex. He missed the way his eyes sparkled in delight when he sank his teeth into a cookie. He craved his scent when his arms wrapped around him. And he’d give his fortune and then some to taste the warmth of his lips again when they melted against his own.

He’d stopped pretending. He’d stopped lying to himself. He was so fucking in love with him, there was no denying it anymore. He didn’t want to deny it anymore! For the past few weeks in almost every conversation there had always been a _moment_. A split second. A point at which he and Alex had found themselves on the cusp of admitting what they really longed for. But it had never gone anywhere. Alex usually blocked it because he refused to discuss it on the phone. So did Miles, but he also wanted him to know what was on his mind! He wanted to be with Alex! Despite all odds! It’d be impossibly hard, unimaginably complicated, and no doubt immensely dangerous to their hearts. Miles knew he couldn’t have Alex in all the ways that he wanted to have him, but at least he’d be able to have him in _some_ ways. He’d have him a little bit. And right now, he was fucking ready to settle for breadcrumbs!

Coffee in hand, he finally arrived at the lawyer’s offices. “Miles Kane,” he told the receptionist, then added the obvious: “I’m late.”

“It’s New York,” she told him, looking up from her PC screen with a generic smile. “I’d be amazed if you weren’t. Take the elevator to the fifty-seventh floor and ask for Andrea. She’ll take things from there. Have a good day.”

He took the visitor’s badge from her, nodded briefly, then went his way. As he waited for the elevator to arrive, his gaze wandered across the marble lobby and out the tall windows that made the walls. Outside, people were sweating and suffering under the outgoing summer heat while in here Miles tugged on his blazer’s sleeves to fight a chill. New Yorkers and their fucked-up obsession with A/Cs. You could put a bloody snowman in the lobby and the thing wouldn’t melt! The doors chimed open and he stepped inside. But as he did, tearing his attention away from the busy streets, he could have sworn he’d seen Alex walk by the window.

Miles shook his head and snorted. It was getting ridiculous! Pressing the floor’s number, he sipped more coffee and chuckled to himself. “You’re whipped,” he admonished himself. “Bloody whipped!”

*

“They agreed to our ideas and put everything in writing. I’ll have our London counsel countercheck the contract and make sure that turfs lines are being upheld. The lawyers will deliver the forms for signatures and everything should be done around Wednesday, Thursday the latest.” Miles rolled his shoulders, trying to detangle the knots in his neck. The meeting had lasted exorbitantly long and while the chairs in that conference room had been visibly, ostensibly expensive and very designer-ish, they had also been fucking uncomfortable. He made his way down the lobby of his hotel, toward the elevator, as he filled Lena in on the day’s results. “Got any plans for the night?”

“Just tv. I need a night off. What about you?”

“Still waiting for Alex to call. Not sure we got the time right, though. He said he’d call tonight. He probably meant London time. But that’s it. I’m headed for my room, now. It’s almost nine. ‘m gettin’ old,” he let her know with a snicker. “I need food and sleep!”

“Listen to us,” laughed Lena, “a bunch of thirty-year-olds craving for naps and snacks. What’s happening to us?”

“We’re turning into our parents! Which reminds me, I got a present for mom ready in London. Want me to add your name?”

“Got something en route already. A book about the perks of life without grandchildren!”

“Feisty,” chuckled Miles. “Think she’ll get the message?”

“She texted me a picture of the new baby store that opened up across from her house in Liverpool. Trust me, I hope she does!”

He winced. “Are you sure you don't want me to talk to her?”

“No,” assured Lena. “I can handle it. Enjoy your night.”

He paused in front of the elevator, waiting for it to arrive. “Will do. Night.”

“Night!”

Miles slipped the phone back into his pocket, slackened the knot of his tie, and pulled it loose as the doors slid open. Not looking up, he stepped in, vaguely aware that a few others filled the square space as well. Some left, walked past him.

Somebody said something. Miles faced the doors, pressed the button to his floor and waited for the last to leave the cubicle.

“You okay?” he heard a guy ask somebody else. That person hovered between the doors, let his hand linger there, forcing them to remain open. “They’re waiting for us!” He sounded impatient. Miles snuck a glance his way. He wore a suit. He was probably in his forties. And he looked annoyed. “Alex?!”

Miles froze. Eyes went wide. No. It couldn’t be. This was New York, not London. Alex would have mentioned something. If Alex was here, in this city, with him, he definitely would have mentioned something. Alex knew Miles was here and— In an instant, he inhaled sharply. No. He didn’t know. It had happened quickly. And they had hardly texted or talked since. Alex couldn’t possibly be aware that Miles was here. But what were the odds? Alex was a name a million people had. To run into him here? Of all places?

“Alex,” the guy tried again. “You coming?”

“No.” _That voice._ Miles felt his whole body going still. It was him! It was really him! And judging from the way Alex croaked out his words, he’d no doubt spotted Miles step into the elevator and was just as shocked about his presence. “I left something…in my room,” he let the stranger know, undone and rattled.

Much like Miles was, at the moment. He didn’t dare turn around. He didn’t trust himself. If he _did_ turn around, if he _did_ spot Alex, _his_ Alex, then he’d lose control, forget about the other guests, grab him, kiss him, and—

“For the meeting?” The guy kept his hands on the door, not just to Miles’ dismay, but to other peoples’ disapproval, too.

“Hey, buddy,” somebody commented, “in or out?”

The guy got out. “Should I wait?”

“No,” Alex said again, harshly this time. Decisive. Final. And wholly impatient. “I won’t make it.”

“You sure? You—” He got cut off by the closing doors.

Miles felt dizzy. Or, hazy. Unsteady. Shaken. Restless. He had goosebumps everywhere. In this very little space, hardly four feet away, stood Alex. His unicorn. The guy he was in love with. The man of his dreams whom he hadn’t seen in _six weeks_! Did he still look like he remembered him? Had his hair grown longer? Had his tan intensified? Had he lost weight or gained it? Was he tired or awake? Did he have dark spots underneath his vibrant eyes or not? Were his eyes still that? Or had they dulled from exhaustion?

The doors chimed again. People entered and left.

Seventeen more floors. Miles’ heart beat faster with every single one. Would Alex exit before? Or after? Would he walk up to him? Would he tell him to follow him? He was bailing on his meeting, did that mean he was bailing for him?

Same procedure. Doors opened. In and out guests went.

His hands were sweaty. His foot tapped anxiously. His mind worked itself into a frenzy. His thumbs wiggled nonstop. Gulping hard, he closed his eyes, tried to calm his body down. More entering and exiting.

More chiming.

A figure appeared next to him. It was Alex. Miles knew without looking. He just knew.

“Next one,” whispered Alex, hushed, barely audible. But Miles heard it perfectly clear.

The elevator slowed down. The doors drifted apart. Alex took two steps forward. He was the only to get out. Nobody entered. Snapping out of his state of shock, Miles quickly barged out, heard the doors move shut behind him, and at long last he raised his eyes off the ground and met Alex’s. “Hi.” What a ridiculous, insufficient, hollow thing to say after such a long separation. 

Alex grinned. His grin. His dimpled, cheeky, sly grin that could melt the ice caps and set the ocean ablaze. “Hi,” he said as well, with a soft chuckle, surely amused by the same thought. The lack of a better a greeting. But Miles was too distracted by the way that vibrant sound of his laugh was crawling up his spine. A caress of the finest order.

Time ticked by. They just stood there. In the corridor. Neither one prepared for a run-in. There was so much they had to discuss. So much to talk about. So much to catch up on! But none of that mattered at the moment. Nothing mattered. Except one thing.

Glancing around, finding the corridor completely empty, Miles charged first and did the one thing he’d been dying to do from the minute he’d done it last. He grabbed Alex’s face, dove forward, and kissed him. The sheer force of it sent Alex toppling backward, colliding with the wall behind him. He kissed him deeper and firmer. He kissed his upper lip, his bottom lip, he kissed them both, and when Alex kissed him back with equal fervor and no less restraint, Miles felt himself turning molten against the hard frame of his man. “I bloody missed you!”

Alex’s hands hurried around his waist, meeting Miles’ vigor with a thunderous passion of his own. He was pulling hard on him, trying to get him as close as he could against his body. There was no pulling necessary. Miles came willingly. So very willingly. “I missed you,” moaned Alex, teeth dragging along his lip as Miles sucked hard on his neck. “I fucking missed you so much!” His hands fell from the waist to his ass, and he groped hard, bringing crucial parts of their bodies into torturous contact. “I need you, Miles!”

“I need you,” breathed Miles, on the verge of a pant. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t stop kissing him! His lips ventured everywhere. His neck, his throat, his ears, his jaw, his cheeks.

Alex writhed against him. His arm shot up, aiming at something. “Room…there.” Not bringing an inch of space between them, Alex pushed away from the wall, kept his hold as firmly as possible on Miles, and towed him down the long path to his door. By the time they finally arrived, he was giggling hard. “You work fast,” he noted, glancing down at himself, eyes landing on his unbuttoned shirt. With one hand he fished for the keycard. The other one, Alex raised to cup Miles’ cheek, touching it. “Stripping me bare in public?”

Laughing right along, Miles buried his nose in the crook of his shoulder, inhaled his fragrance, and sighed in bliss when Alex’s fingers fisted his hairs. “We need to get inside,” Miles warned, kissing more of his neck, “or I’ll do a lot more than that in public!” 

In a swift move, Alex unlocked the door and two starved lovers tumbled into the room amongst a flurry of torn-off clothes and sultry sounds of arousal.

“S’been too long!” Fisting the fabric of Miles’ shirt, Alex tore it apart in the nick of time. Buttons scattered everywhere. The keycard landed on the ground, forgotten. His hands rushed over Miles’ chest as Alex feasted on his lips with the hunger of somebody who’d been starving for weeks.

Miles knew exactly what that felt like! He was in dying need of a meal and Alex was the buffet he’d been dreaming about for over a month. His lips were the appetizer, his tongue the warm-up. The look in his eyes was the fire that kept everything hot. And his body? A hungry growl made it from his throat and he bent forward, into the wild and filthy kiss, only to grab his ass and hoist him off the ground. “We’re gonna need a bed!”

“I got a big one,” laughed Alex, between raspy moans and grasps for air.

They fell onto it, filling the air with giggles and sounds of groping. Shrugging out of his shirt, struggling to do the same with his pants, Miles grunted in annoyance. Letting go of Alex’s wet mouth, he got up, shoved all items of clothes down and away, and licked his lips when Alex did the same.

His about-to-be lover sat up, curled his hands around the back of Miles’ thighs, and tucked hard, making him stumble forward, on-top of him. “I’m saying this now so you know what you’re in for.” Alex stared right into his eyes, dead-serious. Not a twitch on his face. “This isn’t a one-time thing. It’s a many- _many_ -times thing. It’s a _we’re doing it so fucking often ’til we can’t stand the sight of each other anymore_ -times thing.”

Swallowing, bringing both hands up to Alex’s cheeks, Miles nodded softly. Oh, it was exactly that. Dipping his face forward, he brushed his lips against his, as lightly as he could, before leaning back no more than a hair’s breadth. “No more holding back.” Fingertips slid down his jaw, they danced over his throat, then sneaked around his neck, behind which they linked. “I'm yours. For as long as you want me.” And as he stood there in the middle of this bustling city, inside the impersonal bedroom of some hotel whose name he couldn’t even recall, naked, vulnerable, held tightly by Alex’s strong arms, he’d never felt more at home.

“Mine,” stated Alex. He bolted forward, kissed him hard, and rolled ‘em over only to kiss him even more.

They kissed so much. Miles had never been a fan of it. Of endlessly making out. He was becoming one now and it happened quickly. His fingers tangled in the long strands of Alex’s luxurious hair. His tongue slipped deeply into his glorious mouth. His lips were a perfect match with those of his man. And Miles finally had Alex undressed, when he _finally_ had him in his arms, nude, aroused, he fell even deeper into his kisses. He got lost in them entirely.

It was a wild affair. A wild ride. Pillows and covers were littered on the ground, clothes hung from every piece of furniture surrounding the bed. And both let out loud prayers of gratefulness when they discovered a handful of condoms in the drawer by the bed, since neither one had expected or planned for any sort of imminent sexual encounter. “Remind me to tip big,” Alex had spoken right into Miles’ ear, brimming with amusement. “We gotta be more prepared!”

“Oh, I’ll go shopping first thing tomorrow,” Miles assured him, spilling over with happiness and joy. He sank his teeth into Alex’s shoulder just as Alex had nudged his index finger into Miles' back entrance. His tone got higher with each increment the digit moved inward. “I’ll buy the fucking biggest box I can find…” He gasped. “Fuck! Ahhh…don't stop!”

Alex didn’t stop. His lips feathered kisses against Miles’ jaw. “Buy two!”

“I buy ‘em all!”

Even in the midst of fooling around, they couldn’t stop laughing. Miles clung to Alex’s shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, and he reveled in this moment of sheer perfection. Languidly, taking his time, having no need to rush anything, he trailed his hands from the shoulders, down the front, to his lover’s chest. With a gentle push, he got Alex to lay back. Even though that caused Alex to withdrew the naughty finger, Miles flashed him a wicked, smoldering look. “I haven’t eaten today.” Knees bent and he sank down on ‘em. “And I’m starving.” His right hand wrapped around Alex’s hard shaft as Alex’s whole body began to tremble.

“Baby…” Alex shivered. “Baby…yes!”

Miles cocked his lips into a sly smirk as he brought his mouth to Alex’s erection. He kissed the crown gently, then gave it a small lick, trying the first drops of lust that he found there. “Tasty.” Lips around him, he took him almost all the way inside, into his throat, and hummed with delight. Especially when Alex shuddered beneath him. He was meticulous. He was desperate to leave Alex boneless and flying amongst clouds. He wanted him to come as hard as possible. It was his way of showing him just how badly he’d missed him!

And, man!, did Alex cum hard. Laughter vibrated in Miles’ throat, around Alex’s cock, when his guy bucked and shook, hit by an orgasm that completely staggered him. Only reluctantly did Miles let up, smugly wiping the last remains of his semen from his lips. “Like that?”

Alex stared at him, a dreamy smile on his lips, eyes hazy, limbs stretched wide. “Cocky bastard. Like you don’t know!” He groaned as he raised his head, dragged his teeth over his lips as he curled his hand around Miles’ neck, pulling him up. Miles crawled on top of him. “That was…” Alex’s cheeks dimpled. “Fucking good!”

“Yeah?” asked Miles, all coy and teasing. Lips met for yet another searing kiss. “Need a break?” His hand snaked up, over Alex’s hip, pausing against the jut of his bone, outlining it with his thumb. “Or…”

A snort from Alex. “A break?” As if super-charged, his hands went to Miles’ waist, and Alex rolled them over, attacking Miles’ lips with vigor. His tongue licked deeply into his mouth. “Babe, we won’t be taking breaks anytime soon!” Another kiss. Lips made a path to Miles’ earlobe, where he nipped. “On your stomach. Now.”

Miles flung around in a hurry. He should be mortified by himself. He was so bloody desperate to get fucked, it was laughable! But as Alex kissed and caressed and manipulated his body into a pile of liquid desire, he didn’t care one bit. All he wanted was to be taken and Alex was the only one who could do it right. God, they’d done it only twice before and yet, here he was, craving for that elusive, unmatched passion that he’d discovered then and gotten hooked on immediately. “Yes! Oh, Alex…Alex…”

*

He’d lost count on the amount of orgasms he’d had. It was all one big blur of amazingness. Naked, covered from head to toe by a layer of sticky, dried sweat, barely having any strength left in either arms or legs or anywhere else for that matter, Miles was sprawled out on his stomach, arms curled underneath his head, wondering distantly if that persistent smile on his face would leave wrinkles in his cheeks. Not that he’d mind.

Across his back, hot and heavy, lay Alex. He, too, had his arms curled beneath his head as he rested in the hollow of Miles’ spine. Fingertips traced idle patterns on his skin as, every now and then, a stretched-out yawn slipped from his well-kissed lips. And after a while of simply enjoying the moment, Alex spoke up, to announce with almost curious casualness as if discussing dinner options, “I think you should be my boyfriend.”

Lifting his head, trying and failing to catch his eyes, Miles gave up with a chuckle and sank back down. “Is that so?” He was too satisfied, too high on sex to say much more than that. He wasn’t even surprised, in a sense. They’d danced around this whole topic of being in love for two weeks now. The feelings were there. They had insane chemistry. He was already craving for more of him. What else was there to do, but to agree? “Aright.”

Shaking with laughter, Alex uncurled his arms, wrapped them around Miles’ body, and placed a lingering kiss to his back. “Well, I’m glad we settled that.”

“Me, too,” concurred Miles, beaming from ear to ear. “Let’s discuss a more pressing issue. What are you and I going to do all day?”

“Whatever it is, we’ll need to pause it around lunch. That’s when I have a meeting. And I’m forced to attend a gathering at the hotel bar tonight for some drinks. I scored another client. Thanks to Sally and her games, the whole thing with Edward is dragging on much longer than I had planned. The banks got involved. Deals are being weighed. My workload tripled.” Alex raised his hips, snuggled his way up Miles’ body, and sank his face into the crook of his shoulder. “Word got around that I got him to agree to a sale in the first place and that made me a little famous.” He nuzzled into his cheek. Miles purred in agreement. “Want more?” hushed Alex, eagerly.

“Uh-huh!” Turning his head just slightly, to offer Alex more room, Miles was more than ready for some cuddling and kissing. He used to find the mere thought of snuggling an annoyance. Alex had turned him into a whore for it! His boyfriend – the thought of calling him that even in his head made him smile with glee – kissed along his jawline. Eyes fluttered close. “Mmmhhh…”

“Maybe we should stay in bed,” whispered Alex.

Miles would love that, however, there was one problem. “We got no condoms left.”

“Fuck,” shot Alex. Another kiss. “Only blow jobs, then?”

“What a grave punishment,” summed Miles up, brows arched in amusement. Shifting, to rest on his back, Miles wrapped his arms tightly around Alex.

“How awful,” agreed Alex, laughing. He reached up, cupped Miles’ cheek. The giggles subsided. “Took us long enough to get here, didn’t it?”

A nod rolled from Miles’ shoulders. The corners of his lips were drawn up a bit. And he only hoped that his own eyes were sparkling with the same warmth and longing that were lighting up Alex’s. He kissed him deeply. “We’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

Alex kissed him back. “We will. We have to, ‘cause I don’t want to give up on this!”

“Me neither!” More kissing. Once more changing positions, Miles hovered on top of Alex, brows quirked suggestively. “Blow jobs, huh? Let’s see if I got enough energy for one…”

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 18:**

#

“Don't worry. Got a surprise for you.” Miles held out his hand. “Want to go out with me today?” When Alex put his palm against his, Miles tugged him closer. His eyes were sparkling as luminous as the sun. “This is New York. Nobody knows us here. We should take advantage of that.”

The thought hadn't occurred to him before. Alex's smile returned, bigger and brighter than before. Back in London, they'd have to watch themselves when they'd be out in public. But in this city, they could walk the streets and hold hands. Kiss. Be in love. Lips met for a sweet kiss. 

#

He allowed Miles to drag him inside, but Alex was hesitant. All of this, it was novel to him. As easy as the sex and the kissing and the holding hands-part of this budding relationship of theirs was, as complicated was the rest. Did he have to ask to stay the night or not? Was it okay to snuggle or did he need to wait to be offered an opportunity? Was it fine to admit to being tired, or was it wrong? He felt guilty about falling asleep in his arms because he'd forced Miles to wait for his awakening. Was he supposed to be accommodating or dominant?

It was much simpler to be friends, he thought. Even though the basics were the same. Somewhat. But the simple act of carrying the title boyfriend put an odd weight on the things he did. As a friend, he'd done what he'd wanted to do. And, lucky for them, it had somehow matched up with what Miles had wanted to do. He guessed that had led to them becoming friends in the first place.

But friendships, scarce though they were in his life, were something he knew.

A relationship was new.

#


	18. Relationship Day One

Alex nodded attentively and pretended to agree just fine, but the guy sitting across from him in the hotel bar, flanked by two ass-kissing colleagues, was now entering minute five of his nonsensical rant about short-term sales and unmatched dividends and that endless deliverance of bullshit was scraping against his thinly stretched nerves like a sharp knife.

Turning to his right, where two of his own colleagues sat, he tossed ‘em a look. They tossed one back and he knew they, too, wanted to be anywhere but here. He wasn’t all that sure where they preferred to be at the moment, but Alex would love to be back upstairs, in his room, in Miles’ arms.

That man…

His hand went to his nape and he rubbed it covertly, trying to mask the fact that he imagined Miles’ lips doing the touching for him. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since they’d reunited. Or, rather, gotten together. Around noon, more than reluctantly, they’d fought their way out of bed, said goodbye after a seemingly never-ending kiss that left his lips puffy, and since then Alex was dying to shed his clothes and return into their little bubble of happiness. It was so wonderfully warm in there. And the sex…

“Turner,” the guy across from him boomed, barreling into Alex’s fantasies, “you don’t agree?”

“Agree to what?” Shit, he really ought to pay attention to his rubbish. He did work for a prospective client after all. Wiping his x-rated thoughts from his mind, Alex resorted to his most winning smile, covered his across in a layer of sparkling, undivided attention. “I’m sorry, what's that?”

“Am I boring you?” The prospect, to him, seemed impossible to fathom.

Alex bit back a snide ‘yes’. “I must apologize. The fault is all mine.” He waved over the waiter. “Would you like another drink? Anything? I got sidetracked by what you were saying. It got my head fired up,” he lied elaborately. “Got me this idea—” As he raised his eyes to address the waiter, he became aware of the figure sitting by the bar. A tall man, dressed impeccably. Pristinely tailored suit, shiny black shoes, meticulously knotted tie.

Miles.

_Fuck!_

He looked like sex on a silver platter, garnished and all. And as the object of his wildest desires snuck a well-hidden grin Alex’s way, tipping his head ever so slyly, sending off the tiniest of winks across the establishment, Alex swallowed hard.  His attention, exclusive as it might have been a moment ago, was thereby shredded and torn asunder.

The guy cut into Alex’s distraction. “What idea?”

What now? Jerking his  consciousness back to the people at his table, he shrugged, playing it cool. “Not ripe for telling yet.  M ore wine?”

Unconvinced but thirsty, the guy nodded. “Sure.”

“Another bottle, please.” As he handed the waiter his card, he mulled the fact that this night promised to stretch on for a while. A gruesome prospect. Unable to stop himself, his gaze flew back to Miles, who was doing something on his phone.

A second later, Alex’s own phone pinged. He read the text.

‘ _I’m hard.’_

He wasn’t that far from it, either! _‘Bad,’_ he replied.  _‘I_ _have_ _to focus!’_

‘ _Alright,’_ came back in an instant. After that, nothing. No look, no text, nothing of acknowledgment. Albeit being doubtful, Alex hoped Miles had gotten his message.

He faced the guests at his table. “Tell me more about your boss. Does he plan on expanding into the European market? How, exactly, does he plan on doing that?” And what were chances that Alex  could be of help? As the guy got into it again, telling him about the competitive personality of his employer, Alex quickly stole a look toward the bar.

Still there. Still ignoring him. Only, just as Alex was about to retrieve his eyes, as if magically notified by his brief moment of observance, Miles straightened his back and began to shrug out of his jacket. Slowly. Suavely. A performance of the best order. His broad shoulders tensed and his firm upper arms stretched the fine white material of the exquisitely cut shirt. Alex’s throat dried up and he blindly reached for his wine to wet it. Once the jacket was gone, Miles bundled his entire focus and began to roll up his sleeves. One by one, bit by bit. A torturous, mundane, insane act that had Alex rock solid and this close to drooling.

Pathetic.

That’s what it was.

Not Miles’ show, but Alex’s reaction to it.

He grabbed his phone. _‘Fucking stop it!’_

‘ _It’s hot in here,’_ replied Miles innocently.

_Hell yes!_ He felt bound to point out that, _‘_ _ **I**_ _am hard now!’_

The comeback was swift and predictably dirty. _‘Want me to do something about it?’_

Alex shot his eyes his way, straight up glaring across the room.

“He’d love to meet you. Are you available tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? Alex blinked, startled away from his little flirt with Miles. Shit, he’d planned on flying home tomorrow. Tonight’s drinks were the last official appointment that he had in this city. His meetings had all gone according to plan. He’d come here to meet new clients, but mostly to meet with Edward’s buyer to agree on strategies in light of Sally’s continued interferences. Upstairs, in his room, a ticket sat in his bag. The flight was scheduled for tomorrow at noon. It had completely slipped his mind!

If the guy hadn't mentioned it, Alex would have missed his flight, most likely. Unless Miles had other plans, Alex had pondered staying in bed tomorrow. Well, not necessarily in bed. But he'd had every intention of staying naked.

“I can’t make that promise,” admitted Alex. Now, that he’d regained awareness of the fact that life, sadly, included more than sex with Miles, he recalled his full schedule that demanded his presence in London. “Give me a moment. Let me check with my assistant.” He grabbed his phone and made for the back, towards the bathrooms and back alley exit. “Gary, it’s Alex. Can you clear my schedule for the rest of the week?” His temporary assistant, Janine’s replacement, was the eager beaver that he’d wished for. A humorless, work-oriented secretary that never remarked upon orders or allowed himself to comment on his decisions. He was everything that Janine wasn’t.

“It’s tough,” said the secretary. “You have Edward on Friday and you’re the one who asked for the meeting.”

“Damnit.” He’d forgotten. “I’ll make up for that. Park him Monday morning. Tell him I’m staying here to work on his deal. Who else is the—” The words died on his lips as a different set sank down his neck. Shit, that felt good! That warmth, that pressure, that unexpected, sharp pang of pain when Miles bit down. Naughty fucker! “I’ll return over the weekend,” he snapped into the phone. “Figure it out!” He hung up. “Mmmhhh! Babe...”

Hands snaked around his waist. “Want you. Now.”

“Can’t,” croaked Alex, sinking back against Miles’ body. It amazed him each time how perfectly they aligned. “I’m working. I’m in a meeting. I’m…” One hand slid up, across his chest. Over his perked nipple. Eyes fluttered. “‘tis unfair!”

“You talk about unfair?” Miles nuzzled a path along his jawline. “I have to sit here and watch how you look like a fucking tycoon in that suit of yours, showering these bores with your attention and fancy wine. I need a kiss, baby!”

He spun around, grabbed his head, and gladly gave him what he wanted. His tongue thrust deep into Miles’ mouth. He was plundering. He licked into in the filthiest,  raunchiest of ways, and smirked  winsomely when Miles’ hard cock shoved resolutely against Alex’s. “You really are hard!” Fisting his hair, he angled his head and dove for another one.

“Painfully so,” grinned Miles into it.

“They are a bore.” He didn’t deny it. He was desperate to call it a night. “I’ll make it quick.” Lips met. “But you need to leave. Can’t concentrate with you around.”

Miles leaned back and pulled a card from his pocket. “Key to my room. I’ll be in bed, naked, playing with myself ‘til you get there.” The tip of his tongue darted out. Flicked against Alex’s bottom lip. “Hurry.”

Alex’s eyes darkened at the picture. Gliding his hand down the front of Miles’ chest, his eyes ventured up, met those of his lover, and he let out a lust-filled growl of hunger. “Oh, I will!”

*

“Your room is twice as big as mine,” remarked Alex casually as he roughed his pants down. In front of him, sprawled out on the giant bed, lay Miles, slowly stroking himself.

The second he was naked, he jumped up the bed, got on top of his loudly laughing boyfriend, and took over the task for him. “That is for me to play with,” announced Alex greedily, nibbling on Miles’ earlobe. “But feel free to have fun with mine!”

Miles didn’t need to be told twice. Immediately taking possession of Alex’s dick, he gave it the kind of treatment it had been starving for all day. “What’s that thing about returning over the weekend,” he husked into Alex’s ear. “When are you flying back?”

“Don’t know yet. Got a last-second meeting for tomorrow.” Alex shifted. He sat up, straddling Miles. With one hand he cupped his chin and tilted it, to capture his gaze. “Friday, maybe Saturday.” He bent forward for a kiss as he kept stroking him. “You?”

Miles carried on stroking him as well. A satisfied smile clung to his features and  there was a dreamy hue to his eyes. “Friday. But I’m headed straight for Liverpool. Mom’s birthday.”

“Oh, I forgot about that one!”

“Come with me?”

“Already?” chuckled Alex, pulling one brow up teasingly. “I only just began. What are you? Sixteen?”

Laughter from Miles. “I meant come home with me. Mom would love it! She keeps telling me to bring my friends along.”

“You’d be bringing your _special_ friend with you!”

“I would.”

He liked the thought of going home with him, of seeing how he’d grown up and what his home was like. But they’d scarcely  started dating. His parents didn’t know about that aspect of Miles’ life. And it did feel like a step of some kind. “I don’t want to intrude.” What odd conversation to have while giving each other handjobs, thought Alex full of humor.

Miles laid a deep kiss on his mouth. “You’re not intruding.”

“No?”

A gentle head-shake from Miles. “You're more than welcome.”

Alex’s free arm lassoed around Miles’ neck and he hurled him in, kissing him fierily. In no time, they were bucking against another, wildly taking each other’s mouths while hands moved unsteadily, hit in unison by their releases. “‘Tis dangerous, this thing,” whispered Alex into his ear once he drifted back to earth. Hardly a day in and he was already getting used to his presence in his arms. He lightly kissed his cheek.

“Stay the night?” asked Miles. His face was resting inside the crook of Alex’s neck.

Alex couldn’t image being able to leave the bed. “You won’t be catching much sleep,” he warned teasingly. To prove it, his teeth nipped on the velvety skin right below his lobe. “I’m very greedy for you.”

“Babe,” panted Miles. “I love that you are!”

They kissed all over again.

*

Alex had decided to keep Miles' key for now. And he used it freely. After three hours of boardroom discussions, stale lunch, and horribly elaborate PowerPoint presentations, Alex had acquired yet another new client. The aging American wanted to break into the British finance sector and was in the market for a company to take over, to gain a foothold. Alex already had some in mind and if he could make that sale, plus the bonus if that cursed Edward-sale finally got done with, he'd not only be able to take a very comfortable year off. He'd also be able to spend it on a boat much bigger than Miles' measly thirty-five-meter yacht. He'd be able to afford to rent a thirty- _six_ -meter yacht! And buy his own captain's hat.

He slipped the card into the lock. The door opened. “Babe? You're here?”

“Bedroom,” called Miles.

_Perfect!_

Alex hurried there with an extra spring in his steps. “You naked yet?”

Laughter wafted from that room. Miles emerged from it with a cheeky grin and a full backpack. “Got any more appointments today?”

He eyed the backpack warily. The smile fell from his lips. “Why?”

“Don't worry. Got a little surprise for you.” Miles held out his hand. “Want to go out with me today?” When Alex put his palm against his, Miles tugged him closer. His eyes were sparkling as luminous as the sun. “This is New York. Nobody knows us here. We should take advantage of that.”

The thought hadn't occurred to him before. Alex's smile returned, bigger and brighter than before. Back in London, they'd have to watch themselves when they'd be out in public. But in this city, they could walk the streets and hold hands. Kiss. Be in love. Lips met for a sweet kiss. “What's in the bag?”

“Food.” Miles went for another kiss. This one a bit deeper. “Wine. A blanket. Wanna go for a picnic?”

“A picnic?” He'd have never expected to go one today. Now, suddenly, he couldn't wait for it. “I don't think I ever went for one.”

“Bloody time then!” Miles wrapped his arm around him. His face was practically bursting with delight, which, in return, made Alex overflow with joy. “Let's go!”

They let go of one another in the corridor, in front of the elevator. And they refrained from touching inside the packed lift. Walking at a reasonable distance through the lobby, out the doors, down the block, 'til they reached New York's Central Park, Alex hurried his hand back to Miles and beamed his way. Fingers entwined, life was pretty good.

“So,” wondered Miles, inching closer, step by step, “did you have a successful day? Got new clients?”

Alex found himself physically unable to wipe that giddy look from his face. He'd never been unhappy before but there was no match in his past for what he was experiencing right now. As though a fucking bomb of joy had detonated in his body and shrapnels of bliss were everywhere inside of him. His entire arm was pressed against Miles' went he met his wide-open eyes. “As a matter of fact, I did. Things are going well at the moment. Quite nicely,” he added. “Not just professionally.”

The grin on Miles' face got impossibly wide. Alex noticed a blush and it made him run his thumb over Miles' knuckles, to see if he could turn it up a notch. He could. Miles lowered his lids, biting his lower lip coyly. “Tell me more!”

Alex's smirk was instant. “About my professional successes? Let's see, the new deals aren't quite as financially rewarding as the one with god, ole' Eddie, but they sure are easier! I'm afraid I'll be very busy in the upcoming weeks, but…” He squeezed his hand. “I'll find time for you.”

“You will?” Miles came to a stop. He faced Alex and hesitated for a brief moment. Then he leaned forward and kissed him. Chaste and innocently. Warmly. “I'd like that,” he whispered, reaching up to trace the line of Alex's lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “Boyfriend.”

Alex kissed him again. Only to detach with a frown. “Gotta be honest, I'm not sure I like that term.”

“No? Too much?” asked Miles, carefully.

_What?_

“No,” assured Alex, “that's not what I mean. It's ridiculous, really.” He let go of Miles' hand and curled his arm around his waist, instead, leaning into him as the walked ahead. “Feels silly. _Boyfriend_. Something teenagers would say. How about…partner?”

Brows arched high, Miles looked his way. Amused. “Life partner?”

Alex winced. “Nah. Sounds awful. How 'bout… _my man_?”

“I like it,” said Miles, chuckling. “A little proprietary but—”

A groan from Alex. “This is hard. Let's put an asterisk next to ' boyfriend' for now. There's got to be something more  fitting .” He glanced his way, sheepishly. “I'm weird if you haven't realized it before. I get hung up on stuff like that.”

“I noticed,” Miles let him know. But it came out casual. Far from annoyed. And he was smiling.

He didn't mind it, then. Alex tightened his grip on him. For a while, they strolled through the park in silence, catching each other's smiles and exchanging looks. It was incredible. Simple and yet amazingly intimate. He could feel the way Miles' body moved as he walked. He felt the muscles and bones shift and repeat motions. He sensed the heat that floated from him, felt it seep into his own skin. He smelled his cologne and found that he loved it. It wasn't flowery or light or even sweet. It was heady. Musky. Male. Strong, but not overpowering. Much like Miles.

Slowing down, pressing his lips to Miles' neck, Alex grinned into the kiss. “How's that spot?” He pointed towards a sunny patch of grass amongst tall trees.

“Perfect.” Miles dropped the backpack and went on to unpack. The blanket was placed. Plates appeared.

Watching in fascination as he pulled item after item out of that seemingly bottomless bag of his, Alex chuckled as he rested against a tree, arms crossed. “So you got all the utensils. What about the good stuff? Food?”

Flashing his sunny eyes his way, Miles reached into the bag again only to reveal a plastic container. “We got cheese. Sandwiches. Chocolate. And…” His arm slipped in again. “A bottle of the hotel's finest red wine.”

“There it is,” laughed Alex. “The fancy stuff, huh?” He made his way toward him and once Miles had sat down, Alex wedged himself between his legs, coming to rest against his front. As if it was the most normal thing in the world, not worthy of a remark or greater attention, Miles' hand wandered around his body and settled on his stomach.

It was that nonchalance. That ease with which they touched one another that did Alex's head in. After six weeks of separation, after being a couple for less than a day, it took no time to get adjusted. As though that connection and that trust had always been there, beneath the surface.

Alex tilted his head to meet Miles' eyes. “I got to be honest with you. Being rich and all that, I was a little worried you'd go all out for our first date.”

“Like champagne and dinner at the Ritz?”

“Jetting to Rome. Something like that.”

“Are you underwhelmed?” A smirk danced over his face. “Would you like a fancier date? I aim to please, after all.” Miles lowered his head into his shoulder, hushing, “How does a candlelight dinner on a private beach in St. Tropez sound?” Lips kissed his neck. “Or a ride inside a white carriage across the Parisian bridges of the Seine?”

“Dreadfully picturesque,” admitted Alex, lost in the caresses he received. “Too romantic. This,” he confessed, “is absolutely perfect.” His eyes drifted shut. “Mmhhh.”

“GAYS RULE!”

They jumped upright. And busted into laughter when some teenage punk in a rainbow shirt gave 'em the thumbs-up as he walked by.

“This city is nuts,” judged Miles. “In the best way.”

Alex attacked the sandwiches. “You didn't make them yourself, did you?”

“No, ordered them.” He blinked. “Why?”

Alex's lips curved slyly. “You use a lot of salad when you make 'em.”

“Yes. Butter, cheese, ham, green salad, tomatoes—”

“Ham, yes. Cheese, plenty. The rest?” He shook his head. “There's a place for everything in the world. But a sandwich,” explained Alex as he bit into it, “is not a place for vegetables.” Mouth full, he peppered a quick peck against Miles' cheek. “For future picnics.”

Miles laughed heartily. “I'll remember that!”

By the time they were done with the food, Miles had reclined against the tree, and Alex, unwilling to leave his comfortable nest inside his arms, had snuggled even deeper into it. The sun had changed its position by a lot. He'd distantly taken note of the wandering shadows which the trees cast. But he felt no urge to leave or do anything else. He was perfectly happy where he was, endlessly chatting away with Miles, talking about everything and nothing. He'd told him about his favorite books and his almost comical need to finish even the worst ones he'd ever read, forever hopeful that the ending might change his overall opinion of it.

Miles had expanded to him on his record collection and Alex couldn't wait to do an in-depth examination of that one. He'd seen glimpses of it. But he'd barely scratched the surface. He also couldn't await the moment that he'd be invited back to Miles' place. Now that he was his boyfriend and no longer forced, as he'd been before, to remain on the wrong side of the front door, he'd finally have a chance to wander around and take everything in. Miles had told him he loved album covers and he'd seen a few framed ones. But not nearly all of his pieces. And while he'd be busy familiarizing himself with Miles' place, his man could cook him something. Miles was an excellent chef and Alex an eager eater!

“There's an old movie theater not far away from my place,” said Miles. His fingers were tracing the lines on the back of Alex's hand. “They show, like, the old ones, you know? Stuff from the sixties and seventies. We could go there.”

They definitely would. They'd do that and so much more. Alex nodded softly as he stifled a yawn. “M'gettin tired. Somebody kept me busy last night.”

“That somebody plans to do it all over again, tonight.”

“Gotta catch some rest before that.”

“Nap ahead,” encouraged Miles. “I got some emails to check anyway.” He fished his phone from his pocket, anchoring Alex against him with his other arm.

“Just a moment,” breathed Alex sleepily. It was too fucking wonderful in his arms. Head rolled to his side, Alex closed his eyes. “Only a few minutes.”

*

Alex's hand was entwined with Miles as though it was the  natural position. It was odd. The second Miles' hand was in reach, Alex automatically grabbed it. One of the many new urges he discovered himself developing. “I can't believe you let me sleep for two hours!”

Miles chuckled as turned his way. “Why? I was busy and you looked adorable in my arms like that, drooling somewhat. All squishy-faced.”

“Was not,” muttered Alex. God, he had drooled? How humiliating!

Miles brought their linked hands up to his lips and kissed Alex's. “'tis a good thing, babe! You're all recharged and…” He grinned his way. “ready to…” His brows wiggled suggestively.

Alex laughed loudly. “Oh, I am that!”

“Babe look!” Miles stopped, bringing Alex to a halt as well. “Isn't that the author you told me about? That book you read? The weird one? He's having a meet-and-greet here, tonight. Wanna go in?”

The way in which he said 'babe' got him all tingly in the strangest of sorts. Alex was distracted by that and needed a moment for Miles' words to land. Miles had remembered that? It _would_ be interesting to hear from the author, to hear him explain what Alex found to be a remarkably confusing book. But it was getting dark and Miles had expressed his desire to head back to the hotel and do, well, _him_.

“ _You_ haven't read the book,” Alex pointed out, giving his hand a tug. “It'd be boring for you. We can go home.”

“We can go home later,” suggested Miles, not relenting.

Alex was definitely curious. “But what about you?” He didn't want to ruin his evening.

Miles met his gaze with big, confused eyes. “What about me? I'd go with you. Maybe I'll read the book after I hear him explain it? And besides, I'd get to watch you go all fangirl on him! Come on!”

He allowed Miles to drag him inside, but Alex was hesitant. All of this, it was fresh to him. As easy as the sex and the kissing and the holding hands-part of this budding relationship of theirs was, as complicated was the rest. Did he have to ask to stay the night or not? Was it okay to snuggle or did he need to wait to be offered an opportunity? Was it fine to admit to being tired, or was it wrong? He felt guilty about falling asleep in his arms because he'd forced Miles to wait for his awakening. Was he supposed to be accommodating or dominant?

It was much simpler to be friends, he thought. Even though the stakes were the same. Somewhat. But the simple act of carrying the title boyfriend put an odd weight on the things he did. As a friend, he'd done what he'd wanted to do. And, lucky for them, it had somehow matched up with what Miles had wanted to do. He guessed that had led to them becoming friends in the first place.

But friendships, scarce though they were in his life, were something he knew.

A relationship was new.

The ones he'd had before, he'd always led. He'd dictated the pace. The tone. There had rarely been anything of that, to begin with. They were affairs, little more. Physical. Without emotional consequences.

Being with Miles meant  being invested in the outcome . Here was a guy that was kind and warm and funny and sexy and interesting and amazing and loving and…Alex didn't want to do anything that risked scaring him off. That included being boring. 

They settled into a booth. The club was crowded and quite a few fans of the author were already busy mingling. He heard familiar book titles being thrown around. Characters were being discussed. Miles shrugged out of his leather jacket, the one that had earlier, in the park, covered Alex when he'd woken up from his slumber. Miles had placed it over him. He knew, therefore, was it smelled like. How warm it was. How well-worn and comfy. As though he was part of a rare and highly selective club of only two members. Miles knew how his jacket felt since it was his. Alex knew since he was Miles’ boyfriend.

As he shrugged out of his own jacket, he took note of the way Miles’ ever-excited eyes roamed the place, taking everything in .  He didn’t look bored. Then again, they’d just arrived.  “Coffee? Beer?”

“Coffee,” said Miles.

Turning toward the waiter, which had arrived quickly, he ordered two coffees. “Black, one with sugar.”

Crossing his arms in front of him, Miles leaned upon them. “You ever went to hear an author discuss his work?”

“Nope.” Reaching out, Alex brushed his thumb across Miles' cheek. “We don't have to stay long. Just say it when you want to go and—”

“M'fine! How come, though? We live in London. Plenty of authors must have had events in the city.”

He shrugged. “What about you?”

“Authors? No. I went to a meet-and-greet with Paul McCartney once. But too many people showed up and it was over before most of us even made it into the place. Any authors you'd like to meet?”

“Nah.”

“Babe?” The word got Alex to meet his eyes in an instant. “Am I boring you?”

“What? Shit, no! I don't want to bore _you_!”

“That the reason you brush my questions off?” The irritation in Miles' gaze caught Alex unprepared. “You think you are?”

“I don't know!” He blew out a heavy breath. “Fuck, I feel like I'm going crazy! You told me you're not big into books. You don't have to, like, feign interest for me. It's okay that you're not!”

Silence.

His focus lingered on him as if trying to figure out if he was serious or not. Then? The most blinding, vibrant, perfect smile that Alex had ever seen. “Alex, I don't give a damn about the book. But I'm fucking in love with you! You could talk about sorting paper clips and I'd hang on every word! I don't care if we sit here and listen, or walk across the city, or hang around wherever. All I want is doing it _with_ you, _together_. Tell me about your books and your life and your hobbies. I want to know! You ask all sorts of stuff about me—”

“'cause I want to know everything about you,” Alex said firmly.

“You think I don't feel the same?”

He gave a cheeky shrug. “I don't know.”

Miles scooted toward him, sliding over, put his hand on Alex's thigh and cupped his cheek with the other. “Babe, you're a fucking supernova. I could stare at you endlessly and never regret a second of it. What's different, now? You were rambling on about all kinds of shit before. You wasted half an hour of my life – and I mean that – by trying to explain different Dividend Capture strategies to me. You fucking didn't bat an eye then!”

Alex snorted. “It bloody undoes me that you sit on top of this fucking ginormous company of yours without grasping the concept of dividends!”

“I got smart people to do the grasping for me,” retorted Miles, looking sly as he did. Like he'd uncovered the secret to success.

His unique attitude made Alex laugh. It calmed his worried mind. It cleared his head and— his eyes shot up, staring at Miles. “You're in love with me?”

He tilted in his head in that cocky way that Alex found so damned sexy . “You did hear it, then.”

“I did.” One hand flew up, covered the one Miles touched his cheek with. The other fisted into his shirt and gave it a rough pull. “I'm in love with you!” And he kissed him. In the middle of the club, surrounded by people, he didn't care one bit about consequences as he captured Miles' lips and took 'em for a wild ride. There was the sound of kissing, of lips meeting, of gasps and silent moans, of wet lips and of blazing want. Alex was relentless in his pursuit of Miles' mouth. “We should have gone back to the hotel,” he rasped, on the verge of breathlessness.

“We got all night,” said Miles.

Tonight. Tomorrow. Every day after that.

It was Alex's turn to wrap his arm around Miles and keep him locked tightly against him,  leaving no on-locker or casual glancer in doubt that this man was his and his alone. And then, out of nowhere, he remembered why it was so easy to be his friend. Because Miles was freakishly honest about himself. He never pretended to like anything for the sake of something. When Alex had ranted about dividends, Miles had made gagging motions, pretending to be nauseous.

He'd told him to fuck off when he was tired and wanted to sleep.

He'd gone and berated him for using cheesecake to score his services as a hole-digger.

If Miles didn't want to be here, he'd tell Alex.

Relationship or not.

Just as Alex would tell Miles if he felt a certain way about something.

They were still who they were before sex had entered the picture.

Smiling into the kiss, Alex's lips got a little less pliant. “I think the author started. We ought to listen.”

“You listen.” Miles snuggled into Alex's arms and rested his head on his shoulder. “I'll nap. Wake me when it's done.”

He shifted, getting comfortable. “Will do, babe.” Another quick kiss. Another squeeze of his arm. And then, gradually, Alex diverted his attention to the author and his take on modernism.

This was it, then. Relationship Day-One. Date? Check. Love-confession? Check. Gaining footing? Check. A steady smile rested on Alex's face as he kept his arm around his boyfriend. Maybe experience was overrated. Maybe all it took was guts. And plenty of kisses.

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 19: **

#

“You're corrupting me in the worst ways,” complained Alex, with such a sexy drawl to his voice that Miles was tempted to do a whole lot more than that. Lips went to work. Trailed a line of kisses down his neck. “Somebody could see, babe.

“Uh-huh.” He didn't stop, though. On hand slipped between the buttons of his shirt, finding his taught stomach and caressing it. “You smell fucking intoxicating.”

“You're making me hard. In your mom's kitchen!”

“I'm bad like that.”

#

“Everything alright?” asked Pauline, standing right behind him.

He jolted upright. “When they made _Psycho_ , they had _you_ in mind!”

“Tsk, Miles!” A wry grin made it to her face. “Good movie, right?”

#


	19. Weekends With Pauline

“Penny didn't mention that you'd come as well.” Pauline cast an upset look Miles’ way as she gave Alex a strangling hug, only to divert her entire attention to Alex. “What a wonderful surprise. Miles, you should have told me that you're bringing a friend. I could have had the guest room set up already! Now I’ll have to scramble to—”

“About that…” Miles bit back a grin as he watched Alex struggle in his mother's squashing arms. “We're staying at a hotel. We'll go out for drinks tonight and—”

“That's no reason to stay at a hotel,” protested his mother, her embrace of Alex unfaltering.

Miles remained firm. “We don't know what time we'll get back and I would hate for us to wake you and dad up. A hotel is the easiest solution—”

“Nonsense,” judged Pauline. “That's what it is.”

“Be that as it may, we already dropped our bags off.” When she let go of his guy, it was his turn as her son to give her a hearty squeeze. Beyond her, he caught Alex gasping theatrically for air. What a dork his man was! “Happy birthday. Mary told me you already dropped by my place to pick your gift up. Three weeks ago,” he added pointedly, although having expected nothing less. Regarding gifts, he and his mom were two of a kind. He still couldn’t sleep the night before Christmas.

She smiled innocently. “I didn't know when I'd be back. Why leave it behind. Thanks for the sheets, dear.” Her eyes back on Alex, Pauline’s eyebrows furrowed. “A hotel? You couldn't stop him from that?”

It had been Alex's idea. Miles hadn't even thought about it. But they'd gotten so used to spending the night together that Alex had mentioned how difficult it'd be to do that underneath his parents' roof. Awkward, it'd be too. Having to watch themselves in the middle of the night, shushing each other's cries of delight.

“I got caught once by my mom, having sex. Back in my teens. Not gonna need that again. Especially not from your mom,” Alex had told him. The mere thought of it had made him shudder.

Miles had laughed at the prospect. That'd be a way of coming out, right?

“There's a nice, big hotel in Liverpool. Got us a big suite,” Alex had said. And to drive his point home, he’d added, in his usual cocky tone, “that way, you can come as loud as you want when I blow your brains out.”

He’d been convinced then and there.

Facing Pauline and her probing eyes, those ‘you better not give me any bullshit’-ones, Alex smiled chastely. “Uh…we didn't, _I_ didn't want to make any troubles. You got guests already and I didn’t want to add any more stress to you and your husband.”

“For the future, don't think about it. You're more than welcome here.” Her arm linked with his. “Tell me, how was New York?” Her other arm curled around Miles'. “And California? Did you succeed with that…you know, business-ing you did there?”

A chuckle from Alex. And one from Miles. “All went great,” the latter told his mother.

“No return-trips anytime soon?”

“I'm back for good.” He caught the brief and fleeting smile that flashed across Alex's face. “Quite happy being back home.”

“So am I, dear!” She turned his way. “We got plans, you and I!”

Miles froze. Dread took over. “What plans?”

“The teacups are wonderful, my love. The sheets are amazing and—”

“You picked the cups. The sheets…Alex picked 'em!”

“Wait, what?” protested Alex, worried. “No!”

“Boys, calm down. Miles,” Pauline admonished, lovingly patting his arm. “When I came by your place, I used the opportunity to have a bit of a look around. Lena, dearly as I love her, is always busy traveling. We can't expect her to keep track of your faded window curtains. You need new ones. And you have to find some that are…how to put this nicely…appropriate for your lifestyle.”

Eyes went big, bloated with confusion, as he tried and failed to make sense of her words. “What lifestyle?” Had she figured out he was gay? Did white curtains not go with cock-sucking?

On her other side, Alex was biting his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Washing machines don't do well with shabby fabrics.”

“Excuse me?”

“The white is all faded out.”

“It's white,” Miles grumbled, throwing a warning glare at Alex, who was giddily smirking away. “How does it fade out? Will it turn invisible?”

“It dulled.”

“It's a fucking curtain.”

“I think your mother is right.”

Both Kanes turned to Alex, stunned.

“Careful there,” warned Miles.

“Let him speak,” his mother chided. “You were saying I'm right?”

“You should go shopping with your mother.” Alex’s face sported a mischievousness that scared Miles. “Buy some new curtains. You can afford it.”  
“He's got quite the point,” nodded Pauline insistently. “We need to do it soon. I’ll set up a date with Doreen. She fully supports me about the curtains, by the way.”

Great. That meant she’d not only sniffed her way through his apartment, she’d dropped by his office as well. And because, for inexplainable, beyond comprehensible reasons, his secretary considered Miles to be her boss but Pauline to be something of an Empress, reigning above all, she never said ‘no’ to her. Chances were, his mother had devoted a good portion of her day rearranging his office and wreaking havoc.

The prospect of returning to work suddenly lost all charm.

Last time she’d held court in his beautifully simplistic office, she’d filled the place with potted flowers and promised extra paid off-days to everyone who helped carry them up.

Miles sighed heavily.

They stepped into the living room, which was filled with people. Aunts, uncles, friends, neighbors. “Everyone, you remember my Miles? And this is Alex. His friend. Be nice to my boys. They just got back from a very exciting trip to America. Very successful, these two!”

Slipping away to fly around the room from guest to guest, she left Miles and Alex to fend for themselves. Using the opportunity of a quiet moment, Miles stepped closer toward his boyfriend, throwing a dark and well-hidden glare his way. “What was that about? Making me go get curtains with my mom?!”

Alex shrugged innocently. “I got to score some points with her. I'm your _special_ friend now, remember?” He lowered his voice, killing some of the entirely appropriate but madly annoying distance between them. “Your parents find out about us, I'd like your mom to think I'm a nice one.”

Damn those guests and people that crowded the small space. Miles really wanted to kiss him right now! He was concerned about leaving a good impression? An armada of butterflies danced the Jive inside his stomach. Taking yet another step toward him, making sure to shield their touching hands from prying eyes, he brushed his thumb over Alex's knuckles. Stealing a glance his way, he was sure there was a hue of red on his cheeks. “You got nothing to worry about, babe. You're perfect.”

“You're sweet,” murmured Alex, eyes warm, getting the butterflies to merrily dance on.

“Miles!” Two fingers pinched his cheek, ripping his attention away from Alex. “How big you are now! Give your favorite aunt a hug!”

As she locked him up inside her arms, he could have sworn he'd felt Alex's hand on his back, giving him a nudge toward her. That little fucker.

*

He found him in the kitchen, drooling over the big cake that his mother had prepared. “I dare you to try it.” As he settled behind him, gluing himself to his warmth, sliding his hands around his waist, his lips pecked the arch of his jawbone. “Dig your finger into it. I won't tell anybody.”

“You're corrupting me in the worst ways,” complained Alex, with such a sexy drawl to his voice that Miles was tempted to do a whole lot more than that. Lips went to work. Trailed a line of kisses down his neck. It led to weak protests. “Somebody could see…”

“Uh-huh.” He didn't stop, though. On hand slipped between the buttons of his shirt, finding his taught stomach and caressing it. “You smell fucking intoxicating.”

“You're making me hard. In your mom's kitchen!”

“I'm bad like that.”

Giggling from Alex. “Could have at least closed the door.” His hand covered Miles'. Guided it down, towards the line of his belt. Hips began to sway as he pressed his behind into Miles’ eager bits.

Miles' smile widened against Alex's cheek. “Who is corrupting whom?”

“Feels too good. 'tis been too long.” They'd rushed here. The plane had arrived late at Heathrow. They'd scarcely gotten the connecting train. After getting to the hotel to check-in and dropping off their bags, they'd come here. Alex growled underneath his breath. “I haven't had you since yesterday.”

“Have me now. Got a room upstairs. With a bed.”

“Your childhood room,” said Alex, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Your entire family is here. Can't do it in this house! They'd know!”

“We'll be quiet!” As he murmured the words into Alex's ear, biting his lobe in between, his man let out a throaty moan that vibrated and echoed through the kitchen.

Mortified by his slip-up, Alex jerked out of Miles' arms. Spinning around, he pointed a finger at him. “Behave!”

“Make me.” Miles grabbed his face and kissed him. He couldn't _not_ do it. Having Alex, being allowed to kiss him and touch him and just enjoy him in all the ways that he'd longed for from the moment he'd met him had him flying amongst clouds.

Kissing him back with fire, biting his lip playfully, Alex gave up the fight. One hand twisted into Miles' hair, the other fisted the back hem of Miles' shirt, raising it, thieving his fingers underneath.

Miles felt like a teenager again, sneaking around, oblivious to everything, lost in the simple yet unparalleled joy that was being in love. The world was bright and sunny, and nothing mattered except kisses and smiles and touches and, of course, sex. It was a feeling that was elusive and rare and to be able to revel in it now, with Alex, with somebody as naughty and rascally and adventurous as himself…that was more than he could have ever hoped for!

Tongues dueled wildly.

“Shhh,” hushed Alex, diving for another kiss as he did, “somebody might hear!”

“We're tasting the cake, that's why we're moaning!” With a wicked glint, he swiped his finger along the side of the finely decorated cake and sucked the digit into his mouth. “See? Alibi.”

Alex thrust his tongue deeply into Miles' mouth, ravishing it as he did. That, however, drew a moan too loud for the cream to accomplish. He silenced it with yet another kiss. “Vanilla. Tasty.”

“Wanna lick it off of you,” confessed Miles huskily.

Head shaking, Alex evaded his lips. “Nu-uh! 'tis your mom's cake!”

“Must,” mumbled Miles, kissing Alex's jaw, “order cream later!”

“Thank God I'm wearing a long shirt,” Alex said to himself.

“Boys? Where are you?”

The jumped apart in a split second.

“Kitchen,” Miles called out, tugging a towel from the counter and holding it in front of him.

Alex faced the cake, grabbing a nearby knife, trying to smooth out the dent that Miles had left in it.

“What's going on in here?” Her eyes landed on the cake. “Miles!”

“What?” He pointed at Alex. “He's standing by the cake!”

“But you did it,” Alex contested.

“Of course Miles did it,” she declared, looking far from surprised. “I know my son. He's ruined more cakes than I can count.” She nodded towards the fridge with a fond smile, the kind mothers reserved for their children when they misbehaved but were simply too cute to be mad at. “Saved you some cream. Go lick out the bowl.”

“Awesome! Thanks, mom! You're the best!” He went there, pulled it out, and snuck a look Alex's way. Brows wiggled. He mouthed, “upstairs,” and vanished.

Less than a minute later, Alex sprinted up the staircase. “This one,” beamed Miles, nodding towards his door as he held out his hand out for him. Alex snatched the bowl from him. Both stumbled into the room, swept up in kisses and laughter.

The arm with the bowl was stretched far to the side while Miles was busy keeping Alex close with his. Alex jerked and wiggled, trying his hardest to keep the delicious cream out of his reach, but Miles made it impossible. In a blur of giggles, they landed on the bed. “Lose the shirt!” Somehow, Miles had gotten hold of the cream again and held it up high. “Gonna eat it off of you!”

Alex stripped quickly. Eagerly. And crossed his arms beneath his head when he was done.

Moving, then tilting the bowl over his stomach, Miles watched with an unfettered appetite as its contents dribbled onto the smooth skin of his stomach, running languidly away to the sides. The coldness of it made Alex’s muscles twitch and tic. A play of motions that only amped up his craving. Empty bowl discarded with, he licked his lips first and Alex’s stomach promptly after. Cream stuck to his nose when he met his eyes. “You’re bloody delectable, I’ll have you know!”

Swiping his finger across Miles’ nose, Alex sucked it into his mouth with a laugh. “Mmmh! I am!”

Miles brought his head down once again, making quick work of the soft concoction. He really did love his sugar. And sugar on Alex was infinitely sweeter. Lips placed endless kisses to his belly, venturing from his navel to the hidden treasure that waited inside his pants. Hands went to the belt.

“No, no, no! Oh, you’re persistent, I gotta give it to you!” Alex put a stop to his plans. “No sex in this house!” He was squirming beneath him. “I’d never be able to look into your parents’ eyes again.”

“But you’re hard,” complained Miles with a pout, suffering from the same state of arousal.

“Yeah, thanks to you!” He curled his finger, beckoning him to forgo his desires.

Miles crawled up, met his lips in an unhurried kiss, then sank into his arms with a wistful smile. “Fine, have it your way.” He snuggled deeper and breathed in deeply. “Seriously, what’s that cologne? It’s pure seduction.”

“You like?” Fingers threaded through Miles’ hair, making him sigh contently. “’twas ridiculously expensive. Got it at the airport. Salesgirl told me it’d get every woman to drop her pants for me.”  
“I’m not a woman, but I’d drop mine for you!”

“Not now!” He gave Miles’ hair a brief, firm tug.

Miles purred. “Keep that up and I’ll ravish you. Be warned!”

“I hope you’ll do. _Later_.”

For a while, Miles relished the sereneness of resting in Alex’s embrace. The long travel had left him drained of energy and while he was counting the seconds ‘til he could get his hands on him, relaxing in his arms, right now, held an almost a greater allure. “You’re quiet,” he noted after a while. “Are you thinking? Or sleeping?”

“Taking in your room.” His voice was toned down. Alone in this room, in quietness, there was no need for loud words. “You got the same posters I have. The same old records I heard. We’d have been friends, I think. If we’d met at as kids.”

He liked the idea. “Did you have many friends in school?”

“Some. I was never the popular kid. But I was the lead singer of my band. I had that going for me. And girls kinda liked that. You?”

“Played guitar all the time. Had a bunch of friends, but not, like, the popular ones. More of the artsy and rock-loving ones. We had a _Beatles_ fan club in school. It had six members. Two of ‘em were teachers. I was the president. My first taste of power,” joked Miles.

Alex laughed at that. “That when you started aiming for world dominance?”

“I never had any problems meeting new people. I didn’t care much to be friends with everybody, but I sorta knew most people. They always came to me when they were trying to get somebody’s number or wanted to know if anybody was single. Kinda used that to my favor.”

“You demanded money?”

Miles lifted his head and stuck his tongue out cheekily. “Traded homework for info.”

“Cunning!”

“See the little poster that’s framed? Over there, on the shelf? That yellow one?”

Alex looked there.

“Friend of mine printed it. It hung on the front door. The first official ad for my agency. Miracle Aligner. Opening hours: weekdays, after school. Fee: Five Pounds for a date. Ten Pounds for a successful match. One free beer for failure. Never needed that beer.”

“Hustling from the start, huh?”

“I’m good at it.”

“At hustling?”

“That,” grinned Miles proudly, “and at setting people up.”

“And yet you never figured out I was gay,” mused Alex with a snicker.

“’Cause I was crushing hard on you,” Miles admitted coyly. “That clouded my judgment!”

“If we had met as different people, if our mothers hadn’t interfered, if both of us had been open about being gay…I mean, do you think…would you—”

“Would I have asked you out?” He rolled onto his back, bringing Alex on top of him. “In a split second.”

Alex’s smile was radiant. He touched his hand to Miles’ cheek and leaned in for a slow, hungry kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes sparkled impishly. “I think I’d have agreed to go out with you.”

“You think?” They whirled around again. “I’d have dazzled you,” declared Miles boastingly. “I’d have left you craving for a date!”

“You’re so full of yourself! You’d have begged me,” Alex told him, greatly amused.

Wrapping both arms around Alex, Miles pressed his face against his chest with a wide and happy look. “I probably would have!” And he wasn’t too arrogant to admit it. If life had been different, he’d have pursuit Alex using every last trick in his book and then some. He’d have swept him off his feet and taken his breath away. His lips sank down against Alex’s chest. “I got you now.”

Strong hands squeezed his back. “You do.”

*

He was still half asleep, yet giggling like an idiot, wiggling and flailing, but it was useless. Alex had him trapped beneath him, face mashed into the pillow, tickling his sides. “Give it up! Where did you hide my phone?”

“It was making noises all night!” Miles struggled to catch his breath. He was cracking up. Alex’s fingers were merciless. “Flushed it down the toilet.”

“Did not,” laughed Alex. “Tell me!” Hands wandered down. One slipped between his thighs. The index finger inched his way towards Miles’ jewels.

“No! Don’t! No tickling there!”

“The phone, babe. Where is it?”

“Hahaha! Nooooh!” He was tossing and turning, trying to shake him off. Futile. All of it. “Fine, I’ll surrender!”

“Where?” Alex let up. Arched his brow full of expectation.

Miles’ lips shot into a sly curve. “Sent it to Timbuktu.”

“Liar!” He jumped on top of him.

This time around, Miles was prepared and swiftly spun ‘em around, hovering over Alex. “Tossed it to the moon.” He kissed his throat. Bit down gently. “Dissembled it.” Licked the spot. “Made it invisible.”

Alex was squealing beneath him.

Miles was in heaven. He’d laid in bed last night, cuddled into Alex’s arms, trying to recall if he’d ever been this happy and couldn’t remember such a time. These days, he woke up with a smile before he’d even get to the consciousness that let him remember his own name. He was happy by default. And not just a little bit, but full-blown, bursting at the seams, too good to be true-happy.

Lips met. “’tis in my bag. Inside a sock. Want me to get it?”

Alex’s hold on him got stronger. “The world can wait a little longer.” More kissing.

Which quickly became loud groaning when somebody knocked on the door. “Boys? It’s me. Pauline. _Mom_! I’m here to take you out for breakfast. Open up, will you?”

Dropping his forehead into the crook of Alex’s shoulder, Miles whined. “How did she find us?” At no point did his plans for this morning include a meeting with his mother. He had sex on his mind. Plenty of it! “I didn’t give her the room number!”

“Neither did I. How does she know we share a room?”

That got Miles to blink. “That woman is scary!”

“Boys,” she called impatiently. “Open up!”

Mood tanked, Miles tossed the covers away. That, coincidentally, bared Alex’s nude body to the sunlight. His very appealing, very aroused, very— “ARRGH!” He tore his lusting eyes away and wrestled out of the tangled sheets, grabbing a robe and muttering curses. “Bloody hell…”

“Um…” Alex spoke up. “You plan on opening the door like this? With me, in bed?”

Eyes darted his way. “Huh. Probably a bad idea, eh?”

“That,” grinned Alex, making no moves to cover up or get dressed, “would depend on the message you’re trying to send.”

“Which, right now, is, _‘Get lost. I’m trying to fuck my boyfriend!’_ ”

“Subtle!”

“You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

Alex shrugged. “A little.”

“Could you please get your ass out of bed and into some pants?” Miles wiped his face roughly. “Having to watch you like that isn’t helping!”

Turning to his side, one leg bent, head propped up on one arm, Alex posed. “Like this, you mean?”

“I’m opening the door,” he threatened. “You sure you want to stay like this?”

“You’re not going to open the door,” said Alex, sure of it.

“Try me,” dared Miles, hip cocked to one side. He oozed smugness. His hand grabbed the door’s handle.

Alex hesitated.

Miles turned the knob.

Seconds ticked by. Then Alex scrambled out of bed and hurried into the bathroom as laughter echoed after him. “Fucker,” he called from inside.

“Mother,” greeted Miles dryly, pulling the door open wide. “What brings you here _so very early_?”

“Breakfast,” she said. “Told you. Through the door. You left me waiting in front of it.” Eyes darted around the room. “Where’s Alex?”

“Bathroom, I guess.” Did she know? Had she followed them? Was she eavesdropping? He tried to play it cool. “We got drunk last night. We both crashed here.”

“In the same bed?” Her laser-sharp focus scanned the bedroom.

Shit! Did they trash the condoms and the wrappers? What about their clothes from last night? He spotted his briefs dangling from the drawer and went there covertly, snatching them and hiding them inside his robe. “Couch,” he clarified. “I slept on the couch.” Damnit, where’d he tossed Alex’s underwear? He searched the room, raced his focus from corner to corner, and gulped hard when he spotted ‘em.

_Fuck!_

A pair of dark blue briefs cascaded mockingly from the ceiling fan.

His mother filched a sock from the dresser, nose drawn up in disapproval. “How drunk were you? I’d have thought you got more sense now, as an adult.”

“Says the woman who got drunk on homemade gin.”

She paused. Stared at him. Then rolled her shoulder dismissively, as if to say, _‘That’s an entirely different thing!’_ “Suzy from next door made it. It’d have been rude to say ‘no’ to it.”

“Oh, absolutely,” needled Miles. And promptly erupted into a hard, fully faked coughing fit when Pauline’s eyes started moving upwards. The loud noise snatched up all her attention and he tore it, alongside her, out of the bedroom and into the living room. “Water,” he croaked, slapping his chest. “cough, cough!”

“What on earth?” She grabbed him a glass and filled it. “There, dear. Sit down.” Eyes zeroed in on something right next to him on the couch. “Is that…?”

He snapped his gaze there. Grabbed the foil wrapper panicked. “Chocolate bar wrapper! I’m a hungry drunk.”

“Uh-huh,” drawled Pauline skeptically.

 _I’m dead,_ Miles figured.

“Where is Alex?”

“Like I said, bathroom. There’re no other rooms, so…”

“Does he always take this long in the morning to get ready?”

“How would I know?” Miles chose his words very carefully. “I’m not in the habit of sharing rooms with him.”

“But you are friends, am I wrong?”

“Yes?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Yes!” _Damnit_ , he wanted to add. “We are friends. Mother, it’s early! How did you get here? How did you find out the room number?”

“Penny and I talk a lot about you two. We agree that you and Alex are a bit spoiled from having too much money at your disposal.”

“I, _we_ , earned that money,” he felt inclined to stretch.

“Nevertheless,” she continued, “you two are rather fancy in nature. Therefore, I concluded, it had to be a nice hotel. This is the biggest one in this city!” Each reveal she made, she counted off on her hand. “Your cousin Arnie works here. I called him. He checked the computer but couldn’t find your name. I told him to look for Alex’s. You two booked one room, together.”

“We got drunk,” he repeated himself, sternly. “We planned on getting drinks. We crashed here for the night. No need for two rooms. Our train leaves very soon. We were out almost all night!” He’d shown him parts of the city, they’d gotten wasted at his favorite pub, and then they’d made out for the entire cab ride to the hotel.

“Fine, if you say so! But that’s how I found out. He gave me Alex’s room number. And here I am. I checked the train schedule. We got three hours left. Plenty of time for breakfast. If Alex ever finds his way out of the bathroom, that is.” She sat down next to him and patted his leg. “Give me the chocolate wrapper. I’ll trash it for you.”

He jumped up. “No need. I’ll get Alex.” Two steps into towards his destination, he came to a halt, volleyed a cautionary look over his shoulder, and pointed a finger at her. “Stay _here_.”

When all of this was over and he’d be back in London, he’d have to make a call to his dear cousin Arnie and give him a fucking good portion of his mind! And, better yet, a refresher on privacy rights and job security! Grinding his teeth, he knocked on the bathroom door. “You done? Mother is waiting.” He made sure she hadn’t tailed him and dulled his voice, hissing, “Fucking hurry up! I’m getting grilled!”

“Got no clothes in here,” Alex snarled back. “Toss me something!”

Miles spotted Alex’s bag nearby and quickly handed it inside.

“Everything alright?” asked Pauline, standing right behind him.

He jolted upright. “When they made _Psycho_ , they had you in mind!”

“Tsk, Miles!” A wry grin made it to her face. “Good movie, right?”

*

“Huh.”

Both Miles and Alex stopped tearing into their breakfasts and looked up, finding Pauline’s curious expression aimed at them.

“Huh, what,” bit Miles.

“Penny was right.” She folded both hands in her lap and smiled. It was a dangerous thing, found Miles, feeling dismayed and nervous. That woman was up to something, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was. “You, Alex, are a healthy eater!”

His cheeks dimpled with amusement. “M’hungry?”

“It’s a good thing!” One hand reached across the table and she used her napkin to wipe Miles’ cheek.

He swatted her hand away.

She ignored that. “My sweet little boy is a sugar junkie and loves cake, but I swear he’d trade a steak for a cucumber in the nick of time!”

Alex busted up in laughter.

Miles blushed profusely.

Pauline was bewildered. “What’s so funny?”

People were throwing strange looks at them, but Alex was oblivious. His eyes were wholly on Miles, and while Miles usually enjoyed having his attention, he detested it when he was mortified and in the presence of his mother. Underneath the table, he reached over and gave Alex’s thigh a firm pinch.

Alex’s laughter slowed down. But his eyes began to shimmer diabolically. He covered Miles’ hand with his own, clutching it firmly, making it impossible for him to withdraw. “You like vegetables, don’t you? Cucumbers, eggplants, what else is there?”

“Sue me,” retorted Miles, deciding to fight back. “We can’t all stuff our mouths to the hilt with big meat, right?”

He seemed impressed, his Alex. There was awe on his face. Miles was satisfied with his comeback.

Pauline nodded as well. “Everyone loves different things, I agree. You enjoy your vegetables, dear!” Her hand reached over, and squeezed Alex’s free one. “You and I like our meat, don’t we? Not the greasy kind, but the meaty kind.”

It was Miles’ turn to succumb to giggles while Alex blushed crimson.

Before long, they had managed to finish breakfast. “Is it time?” Miles’ mother asked with a note of sadness.

Rolling his eyes, feeling guilty for leaving already after spending that much time away, he got up and gave her a tight hug. She was a handful. Annoying in the most stressful of ways, but she was his mom and he loved her madly. “We’ll go shopping soon. And have dinner. And do coffee. Give me a chance to settle in and then I’ll have you over.”

“Excellent,” she exclaimed giddily. “You’re welcome, too, of course!” She gave Alex a fierce hug. “Oh, why won’t we go out together? All of us? Dad and I, David, Penny, and, of course, the two of you? A welcome back dinner? Or better yet, we’ll have it at your place, Alex!”

“Whoa,” flinched Alex. “What?”

“Penny told me you got a marvelous apartment and a dinner table that was meant to have people over. You could cook for us! Rather, have Miles cook for us. Penny told me you’re not quite that… _gifted_ …in the kitchen. Miles is. He’ll cook!”

“I will?”

“Better you than me,” muttered Alex.

“You two will make it a grand night! We’ll do it soon. I’ll set everything up! Be going now, boys. Don’t want you to miss your train!” She pecked both of their cheeks. “Be good!”

They made their way out of the restaurant. Once outside, Alex quickly slipped his hand into Miles and took in a long, deep breath. “That was…something.”

“That was nothing,” disagreed Miles. Fingers entwined. It was like crawling into bed after a hard, exhausting day and sinking into the fluffiest pillow imaginable. Holding Alex’s hand felt that way. “Just another Saturday morning with mom.”

“You don’t think she knows?”

“Why?”

“’Cause she kept talking about _us_ ,” Alex pointed out, words laced with concern.

“She thinks I’m married and lonely because my wife is busy all the time.”

Alex offered him a smile, one, Miles thought, didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey, don’t worry! I know my mother. If she knew, she’d have said something. All’s good! She loves you, that’s all. You’re like a second son. You’re her best friend’s son and she thinks you’re my best friend. She couldn’t be happier!” He stopped walked and faced him, giving his cheek a gentle touch. “By the way, eggplants? Since when do you speak emoji?”

“Since I had to learn it! You were gone for six weeks. I had to figure out how to text you without accidentally proposing or some shit like that!” Alex leaned in for a peck that morphed into a wet and r-rated lip-lock in no time at all. “It’s time we get home. I’m having withdrawals.”

“Want me to guzzle your cucumber on the train?”

“Oh yeah, babe!” Alex laughed into the kiss. “Go for my vegetable!”

Miles joined right in. “I love it when you talk dirty!”

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 20:**

#

The last weeks had been bloody stressful and while his workload hadn’t lessened, it had slowly fallen into place and offered space for order. On the other hand, while that would have been perfect weeks ago, when Miles had been far away and Alex had longed for a bit of structure in his days, right now, it sucked. Plain and simple.

Because Miles was back. 

And structure meant set frames of free time. Set frames of free time that didn’t align with Miles’ set frames of free time. 

#

“ I wore jeans last night. Can’t show up at work wearing jeans.”

“ So stash some of your shit here,” he told him. “There’s a fucking guest room that sits empty. Plenty of room for your stuff.”

Miles’ lips were a little less pliant than they were a moment ago. “You mean that?”

“ Why not?” He had no intention of ending things anytime soon! Miles was his boyfriend and Alex's goal was to keep it that way. 

The right brow of Miles’ face tilted upward the slightest bit, giving his face a doubtful tint. “I told you to keep things at my place and you didn’t bring anything over.”

Alex stiffened.

#


	20. Settling In

Chapter 20

**End of August**

There was something oddly comforting about boring day-to-day routines. You got up, you got to work, you got off work, you came home, you chilled, you went to bed, next day, same stuff. He’d missed it. The last weeks had been bloody stressful and while his workload hadn’t lessened, it had slowly fallen into place and offered space for order. On the other hand, as perfect as that would have been weeks ago when Miles had been far away and Alex had longed for a bit of structure in his days, right now, it sucked. Plain and simple.

Because Miles was back.

And structure meant set frames of free time. Set frames of free time that didn’t align with Miles’ set frames of free time.

They had returned from Liverpool last Saturday. The weekend, they’d spent in bed. Monday, life had resumed its nasty grip on them. And Monday night, around nine p.m., Miles had called to let him know that this phone conference, which he’d been stuck in, would carry on for at least another hour. He’d told him he’d had to write some emails afterwards and would be done somewhere around midnight. And because Alex had been stuck with an important meeting Tuesday morning, he’d slept at his place to not disturb Alex’s rest.

Alex had wanted to point out that sleeping was not on his mind. But, then again, he also hadn’t wanted to come across as some type of needy, sex-obsessed clinger. “Fine,” he’d said. “Dream of me.”

Tuesday, Alex had been the one pressed for time. Meeting after meeting. Around seven, he’d wanted to call it a day and catch dinner with Miles, but things had gone haywire when, last minute, one of his new clients from New York had arrived and invited him and some colleagues out for drinks. To his great dismay, his job required him to be social and agreeable. He’d been forced to attend.

There had that night gone.

Wednesday, both had had light schedules. But mismatched ones. Whenever Alex had wrestled free a spare moment, Miles was busy and vice versa. They had given up around lunchtime and petulantly decided to set an appointment, black ink on white calendar paper, for Thursday night.

“What shall I put down?” his assistant had asked him.

“Meeting with the Pope,” Alex had retorted. “Do not postpone!”

“The Pope?”

Alex’s new assistant also lacked a sense of humor. It was Thursday, shortly after noon, and he waited for his meeting with the London stock exchange’s regulator to begin. It was almost fall and the air had shifted into a warm and humid fog, which made wearing a suit a torture. But that damned prick, who was running late as if letting people wait was a sport and not a bad habit, was a stickler for proper attire. It was hard enough to get him to show up in the first place. Stuck in his tie because of that, Alex grunted in frustration, eyes darting back and forth from the window to the door, mentally counting the seconds as they ticked by.

His phone chimed.

‘ _Don’t kill me,’_ read the text from Miles. Alex’s mood took a nosedive. _‘Got an important video conference tonight. Won’t make it.’_

Shoving his phone across the desk, Alex rolled his eyes. Then lowered his head into his palm. It knocked. He raised his gaze, grim as it was, to the door. “Come in.”

“Alexander,” the regulator greeted him, marching straight for the visitor’s chair. “Let’s make this quick. I’m late.”

“You are.”

A beat. “I’m a busy man,” he pointed out, affronted. “I’m in charge of important decisions.”

Alex was in no condition to give a damn. “So am I.” He slid a file toward him. The move harsh and curt. “That’s the deal’s financial details. Sign off on it and you’re free to be busy and important elsewhere.”

“You seem to be under the impression I work for you.” The regulator’s line of sight rose from the file up to Alex. “I don’t.”

“Felix,” cautioned Alex, short-tempered, “don’t make this complicated. You will sign off on this. I know it. You know it. It’s a fucking matter of minutes. Tell me the numbers are fine and I can move ahead.” He brows curved, a warning arch. “Today’s not the day to mess with my patience.”

He yanked the file from the desk. “Heard a woman is ruining your show!” A snicker. “That got to hurt your ego.”

“Yes, a smart woman is doing what no other man aside me dared to do. Make a play for a big sale.” A ridiculing snort wafted from Alex as he waited in exasperation for that idiot to sign off on this bloody formality. “Speaking of women, how’s your wife doing? Did she raise your allowance yet?”

Felix snapped the file shut. “You’re a fucking asshole, Turner.”

“What else is new. Go on, open the file! Need me to read it to you or are you done?” A stern voice in the far back of his head advised him to fucking tone it done since he needed his services again, inevitably, and next time Felix might not drop by during his lunch break but make him get an official appointment, which could take weeks or even months.

He skimmed over the numbers. “You got a client willing to pay that much for this pile of rubble?”

Alex tossed a look his way. “Surprised?” Another text arrived. From Miles again. _‘Thinking about you.’_ For the first time all day, a smile showed up on his face. But, because it was Miles, it wasn’t just any smile. It was his _Miles_ -smile. That ever so knowing grin, tinted with a spritz of wickedness and a flair of filthy intentions. “I am _that_ good,” he spoke Felix’s way, as he typed his reply. _‘Naughty things?’_

“I bet you are.”

Fingers froze. _Fuck._ What was that? Did he just…?

“Wanna go for lunch?”

Eyes locked on his phone screen, Alex resumed typing, even though it was just random letters and meaningless gibberish at this point. A preoccupation. Anything to not acknowledge him or his suggestion, which suddenly hung in the air like a foul odor you couldn’t escape. “Busy.” He shook his head as nonchalantly as he could, treading carefully. “Got the next appointment waiting already.”

“Maybe next time.” Felix got up, dropped the file back to where it had rested before. “Approved. Go for it.”

“See you,” Alex told him with as little meaning as possible. The second the door fell shut, he dropped back into his chair and grimaced. “Fucking shit!” How was he supposed to face him again? And how the bloody fucking hell did he get the impression that Alex might be interested in him?!

*

‘ _Are you alone?’_ Alex stood in front of Miles’ door, waiting for him to read the text, waiting for those checkmarks to appear. The second they showed up, and the subsequent text of _‘yes’_ lit up his phone’s display, Alex knocked hard.

Miles opened, surprised. “It’s past midnig—”

Alex lunged forward, grabbed his head, and kissed him hard, giving him no chance to protest or evade. Not that Miles wanted any! His lover’s arms raced around him in and hurled him into the apartment. Alex only let up to declare his desire. “We need to fuck!”

With a jerky nod, Miles charged into the task of undressing him. It was a difficult one, what with all the kissing and groping they kept getting lost in. “We do!”

Plenty of kisses were exchanged as they stumbled through the apartment. Countless fondles and touches. Endless moans filled the air. Alex grabbed Miles’ hip, spun him around, and pushed him up against the kitchen counter. Palming Miles’ straining erection, he growled. “Missed you!” The other hand undid the belt. “You and your beautiful cock.”

Breathless laughter droned from Miles, who gave himself wholly over to Alex’s ministrations. “Me and my cock missed you just as much!”

Needy hands tore on Miles’ shirt, making it clear he wanted it gone. Miles made it easy for him to get rid of it and as he stretched his arms up high, Alex licked his lips in hunger. The intricate play of muscles on Miles’ back captured his sight. Twitches and movement. He trailed a hand from shoulder to shoulder, following the tics and spasms of the tendons as they tensed and relaxed. Lips joined in and began a journey down to the hollow between shoulder blades. “You’re a fucking vision, you know that?” Miles’ shudder gave him a sense of accomplishment, as though he’d done something very right to be rewarded with that reaction. “Just thinking of you,” panted Alex, “gets me hard!”

“Babe!” Miles reached behind himself, cupped the back of Alex’s head, roping him against him. “You drive me just as wild!”

Alex thrust forward

Miles hummed in delight.

“Where?”

“Here,” decided Miles.

“In your tidy kitchen?”

“Mmhhhh…”

“Shall we get all sweaty and dirty in here?”

Breaking free, whirling around, he kissed him hard. “Fuck yes!”

Alex whipped around, shoved his own pants and briefs out of the way, and grinned when Miles fished a condom from his pocket. Hands against the counter, he offered himself in the most wanton of ways. “Were you expecting me, Mi?”

“Never going anywhere without one these days.”

“Smart.” As it so happened, his pockets were stuffed with condoms, too. A small tube of lube as well. He grabbed that, handed it to Miles, and wiggled. “Gettin’ impatient here!” Yearning for some real good action, he shoved his against Miles’ hard-on, not bothering to undress any further than necessary. “Hurry, damnit!” There was something vastly hot about fucking with clothes on. Tangible proof that your need was overpowering.

Gently, Miles nudged in. His teeth scraped against the delicate skin of Alex’s jaw as he croaked terms of endearment. “You feel so fucking good!”

Alex thrust back, against him, ‘til Miles was in, all the way, buried completely inside of him. A marvelous feeling that he reveled in. The sensation of being stretched wide, of being at Miles’ mercy, knowing his man would make it good – better than that – was insane. Searing lips placed tender kisses across his back as one hand caressed his chest, thumb running up and down across his hard nipples. They fell into a steady pace, in perfect sync. As though they’d done little else in life but perfected the art of fucking. “Oh shit,” wailed Alex, lost in bliss, “fuck, yes!”

*

The second round had taken place inside Miles’ emperor-sized bed which was covered from head to toe in orange. “Those sheets are fucking ludicrous, but, _damn,_ they’re comfortable!” Alex purred as he wiggled deeper into ‘em.

“Right?” Miles snuggled up to him, nuzzling his face into the arch below his jawbone, leaving kisses behind. “Tell me about your day.”

“It was a weird one,” Alex admitted, still flummoxed by the odd encounter.

“Yes?” His kisses continued.

Alex bit his lip, that’s how fucking amazing that felt. “I flirted with somebody else today. But by accident!”

The kisses stopped. Eyes shimmered with something. Was it hurt or humor? “Barely two weeks into our fledgling relationship,” Miles lamented, using dramatic flair, “and _already_ you’re bored with me?”

A spark of laughter from Alex as he smacked his elbow into his chest. Humor it was! “It happens fast,” he ribbed back.

“Tell me about this flirt of yours,” demanded Miles.

Alex loved that even though Miles pretended to be struck by the revelation, his eyes still sparkled with hilarity. That was a mocking drawl to his words. He found the entire thing hysterical. He wasn’t the least bit worried or concerned.

Nonetheless, to kill even the smallest, invisible trace of doubt right at the start, Alex leaned up and gave him the kind of kiss that got his cock to twitch in excitement and left his lips numb. When he let up, he kept his tight grip on him. “Told you I had a meeting with the regulator, since Edward’s sale is big and it involves stocks? Anyway, the guy dropped by and—”

“Felix comes to see you?”

“During lun—” Alex blinked, startled out of his story. “Wait, you know him? And you call him by his first name?”

“We do run in the same circles,” Miles pointed out, settling into Alex’s arms. “Met him at a few parties. Nice guy. Lovely wife. Just surprised he came to you. Guy’s a pain in the ass jobwise. And not in the good way,” he added, eyes scrunching. “Made me go through hoops to get an appointment once. Took me weeks of waiting! Why do you get a personal visit?”

“Don’t know,” muttered Alex, distracted by Miles’ admission. “You like him?” That was veritably shocking.

“As a person, yes. As a regulator, no.”

“What’s likeable about him?” As far as Alex knew, Felix was a bore and a prick. He strode into the offices of this world with an air of lordliness that was grating to say it nicely. His non-existent sense of humor rivaled that of Alex’s equally bland assistant. And he wasn’t even nice to look at!

 _Huh. Interesting! Miles and I disagree about something_ , thought Alex. “Anyway, _he_ hit on _me_.”

“Felix?” Miles frowned, equal parts entertained and unconvinced. “He’s married.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “So are you, my little _sex-bunny._ ”

Arms bent, resting on Alex’s chest, Miles laughed at his nickname. “I just can’t believe he’s into you!”

“Should I take offense?”

“No, not like that!” Miles leaned in for a quick peck. “You’re a guy!”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And I had no clue that he’s into men, either. You sent me that text and I replied, wearing my flirty grin.” To demonstrate, he sported it now. Miles immediately reacted by mashing their lips again. “And Felix must have thought I was flirting with him! God, I hope he got the message that I’m not interested!”

“Well, if he didn’t,” announced Miles, growing hard against Alex’s thigh, “I’ll let him know!” Another kiss. This one deep and raunchy.

Alex’s legs drifted apart. A raspy pant escaped his throat. “Will you let him know I’m yours?” The idea pleased him. Hands fisted in Miles’ hair. “’Cause I quite like being yours.”

“You do?” He was kissing his neck, now. “I,” whispered Miles, “like being yours, too.”

“That’s—” The sweet talk got interrupted by a fierce yawn from Alex, whose face turned a vibrant red while Miles burst into giggles.

“Baby, you need sleep!”

“Want sex!”

Miles glanced at the alarm clock and winced. “It’s almost 2 a.m.! We got to get up in a few hours!” He rolled off of him.

Alex’s protest was swift. And simple. He rolled on top of Miles. “Sex.”

“Sleep!”

He grabbed his cock. “Sex.”

An Inuit kiss from Miles. “Sleep!”

Alex hated when he did that. The damned sweet gesture had the habit of completely undoing him! It made him all mushy and lovey-eyed! Whenever Miles did that, his boyfriend’s eyes got big and soft and it always left Alex with the irrepressible urge to snuggle in and hold him close. With a grunt he let go of his dick and wrapped the arm around his body instead. “Sleep, then.” He dozed off in an instant.

*

**Early September**

They had managed to work out a ritual. If things got messy at work, they’d call and talk on the phone as much as possible, using spare minutes to chat about their days and casual stuff. That freed up more time at night to focus on the physical joys of being together. And four weeks into his relationship with Miles, Alex discovered that the more sex they had, the better they got at it!

He reached for the alarm clock next to his bed and gave it a shove, sending it into a tailspin towards the floor where it died on a strangled beep.

“That the third alarm clock we killed,” laughed Miles out of breath, keeping up his incredible rhythm of deep, hard thrusts.

A loud moan droned from deep inside Alex’s throat. “Fuuuuuck! Yes! Shit, that’s good.” He arched his back, eyes rolled into the back of his head, on the verge of exploding. “Don’t stop! Please…yes!”

The pace got unsteady. Miles was close, Alex knew. He met his moves. Things got uncontrollable. Wild. They were bucking against another. Sweaty and sticky. Grunting hard. “Argggghh!” He came on a scream, taking Miles right there with him. “Holy shit! That was…” A mixture of a pant and a giggle emerged his mouth.

As Alex stretched out on the bed and enjoyed that unmatched feeling of a post-sex high, Miles scrambled out of bed.

“Whoa, slow down.” Alex’s arm shot out, holding him back. He’s scarcely gotten a chance to enjoy their well-deserved afterglow! “Not yet! It’s barely six a.m.!”

Miles paused, turned around, and met Alex’s lips in a heady kiss only to bite his lip at the end of it, drawing another giggle. “Got to go home. Change. Get my stuff. Got an early appointment.” Another kiss. “Can’t stay.”

Arms wrapped around him. Alex refused to surrender him to his job. “’tis still dark!”

“Baby! Lemme go!”

“Nope.” He lay one on him, spurred on by Miles’ reluctance and victorious when his boyfriend caved before long, sinking into his arms and giving up the fight. “That’s better!” He flung his leg over his torso, straddling him. Lips met again. “A few more minutes.” More kissing. “We’d have another half hour if you showered here.”

“I wore jeans last night. Can’t show up at work wearing jeans.”

“So stash some of your shit here,” he told him. “There’s a fucking guest room that sits empty. Plenty of room for your stuff.”

Miles’ lips were a little less pliant than they were a moment ago. “You mean that?”

“Why not?” He had no intention of ending things anytime soon! Miles was his and Alex had a goal of keeping it that way.

The right brow of Miles’ face tilted upward the slightest bit, giving his face a doubtful tint. “I told you to keep things at my place and you didn’t bring anything over.”

Alex stiffened. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. “It’s just…” He swallowed, almost embarrassed by the reason. It was ridiculous in a sense. “You live there with your wife. It’s different here, where I live alone. You’re always welcome. Stay as often and as long as you want. Bring over whatever you want!” A part of him had even considered the thought of moving in together. He liked him _that_ much! But the grown-up, rationally thinking part of him knew it was too soon to bring that up. And they couldn’t move in together for the same reason Alex felt strange about storing his stuff at Miles’ place.

Driving his hand through his tangled, messy hair, Alex sighed. “I know you said that Lena knows about us. But it’s her place, too. And…”

“Does it bother you?” Miles rolled to his side, no longer stressed about work. His entire attention rested on Alex as his hand lay on his chest. As though the touch was necessary to reassure each other of their commitment to one another. “That I’m married, I mean? She’s my friend, nothing more. There was _never_ anything more than that!”

It bothered him as much as it bothered him that he couldn’t kiss him in public, hold his hand at events, or smile at him the way he smiled at him when there was nobody else in the room. It wasn’t Miles’ fault that he was married, it wasn’t his fault that he was hiding that very private part of his life, as much as Alex didn’t consider it a fault that he, himself, was pretending to be somebody he was not.

It wasn’t a fault.

It was what was it was.

Hard facts.

Alex cupped Miles’ cheek and flicked his thumb over that sensitive spot right beneath one of his sleep-deprived eyes. “It doesn’t bother me,” he reassured him, trying his mightiest to sound convincing. “I’d feel as though I half-moved into her place, too. We knew what we got into when we started it. I don’t regret a single day, a single thing. I want more of you, not less.”

He didn’t know how else to say it, or how to better explain himself without touching on topics that were too big for this early a time in the morning. Or this early a time in a relationship. If he got into it now, if he told him that, deep down, where his heart ruled, he wanted to spend all of his nights in his arms and dream of a future with him, it’d lead to a discussion that involved topics like divorce and coming-out.

Sooner or later, he knew, they’d have to have that talk. Lest they never got to that point.

At any rate, that day wasn’t today.

There was still a portion of the road left to travel.

The expression on Miles’ face softened as he leaned in for a long, unrushed kiss. “I’ll bring a bag over, then.”

“A big one,” said Alex. A very big one. He kissed him vigorously. And smirked when he felt that long, hard arousal of his boyfriend dutifully announcing its readiness.

“No!” Miles wrestled out of his arms. “I’m meeting with the people from the revenue office today. I show up late, it’ll be my accounts they’ll comb through!” A quick, deft kiss, then Miles hurried out of bed. “I’m playing by the books, but those fuckers _always_ find something!”

“And sex with me,” asked Alex coquettishly, “isn’t worth a bit of tax troubles?”

“That’s a mean question to pose,” he shot back.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Alex tossed the sheets away, revealing his naked body to him. His hand went to his hard erection and he gave himself a few good strokes. “I _am_ mean like that.”

Miles stood in front of Alex’s bed, staring at the sight, licking his lips. “Fuck, damnit!” He jumped back into bed, swatted Alex’s hand away, and joined him in his laughter. “You want mean?” He lowered his head and gave the firm flesh a long lick. Alex shuddered. Miles kissed the crown. And smirked. “Gotta go!”

Alex gaped in shock. “Are you fucking serious?!”

Already wearing jeans, struggling to find his shirt, he tossed a wink over his shoulder. “Think of me when you take care of that!”

“You’re hard, too,” retorted Alex, miffed and frustrated. “Enjoy your blue balls!”

“See you tonight!” called Miles on his way out.

“Ugh!” Not even six a.m. and already grumpy.

‘ _Well,’_ Alex said to himself, inspecting his stiff state, _‘As always, I’ll have to do it myself...’_

*

“For fuck’s sake!” Alex shoved files from side to side on his desk, searching for the one cursed page that contained the projections he needed. He’d seen it a moment ago. He knew it was there. Amongst that pile of utter chaos. As he made the pandemonium worse, his attention landed on the clock.

_Shit!_

“Gary!” He found the sheet. Skimmed it. Hell, it had the wrong projections on it! These were outdated. He needed the current ones. “GARY!” He had a call in an hour and needed the godforsaken numbers! “GARY! NOW!” Eyes flew to the door, which remained close. Where the hell was his assistant?!

Patience below zero, he marched over, ripped the door open and— “Bloody hell?” Gary _Somewhat_ – Alex knew he had a last name, but he’d made no effort remembering it – sat at his PC, wearing headphones. Gigantic, fancy-ass, gaudy-gold-colored headphones. They stood in stark contrast to the demure and ill-cut suit that he wore.

He smacked the file in front of him.

Gary looked up, unconcerned. He had the audacity to smile, which in return had Alex’s nerves snapping apart. “You need anything?”

_A new assistant._

“The current projection. This one’s from August.”

“It’s September.”

His jaw ticked. His words came out clipped. “You see the problem, then.”

“But August just ended.”

“And yet,” gritted Alex, “it _is_ OVER!”

Gary jumped. “September numbers? Right away, Sir.” He clicked through the machine in front of him. The printer came alive amongst a flutter of buzzing noises.

Forcing himself to take calming breaths, bothered by the curious glances of his other employees, Alex struggled to keep his voice controlled and low, seething, “No more headphones. I called out for you and—” As he skimmed the office floor with an absentminded gaze, he spotted the smirking figure sitting nearby, in the waiting area, waving at him as though he was the queen and Alex his loyal admirer.

“Why is…” Alex glared at Gary. “What’s Miles Kane doing there with a coffee in his hand?” He wasn’t entirely sure which aspect rankled him the most. The fact that his man was here and nobody had bothered telling him or that Miles was enjoying a coffee when Alex desperately wanted one.

“Waiting,” Gary cleared up, all nonchalant and guiltless. “He had no appointment. I told him you were busy and I needed to check with you first before I could send him in.”

“And why didn’t you check with me?” bristled Alex, his tone getting harsher once again.

“You were busy. I didn’t want to hassle you a—”

“Do you even know who he is?” _My boyfriend,_ Alex wanted to stress. But settled on a more professional characterization. “He’s the head of _Miracle Aligner_ , that fucking app I saw you using the other day. _At work_ , I might add. His company scores unprecedented numbers in ad revenue. He’s in the middle of a global expansion. And even though he’s my friend and _doesn’t fucking need an appointment_ ,” Alex snarled, “he’s also a potential client worth millions. As in _paycheck money_.”

“That,” quipped Miles, wrapping his arm around Alex’s tense shoulders, “is just the tip of the iceberg. I’m affable, funny, and probably the only one that can handle Alex when he’s in one of his peevish moods.” He curled his finger in a gimme-motion. “Projections. Hand ‘em over.”

Gary did.

“By the way…” Miles, as always mesmerized by whatever item landed in his hand, skimmed the papers with the kind of short-lived interest that fell flat in a hurry once, assumed Alex, he got bored by the endless rows of numbers. “It’s no longer _Miracle Aligner_. With the new offices being built in California, we decided for a more _Americanized_ name of our little company. Something that’s less _dating app_ and more _global empire_. It’s _Kane Inc._ now. Fancy, ey?”

Alex’s brows arched up high. A sniff. “Seriously?”

“Hey! It ain’t easy finding a cool name for a company! A whole lot of money went into that decision. There was research and such! It’s less cutesy and more…”

As Miles struggled for the right term, Alex readily offered one. “Sounds like a bloody crime syndicate.”

“Office,” ordered Miles, riled. “Now.” He flashed a grin Gary’s way. “Put the headphones back on. This could get loud.”

Hearing his remark, Alex scoffed hard as he pulled the door shut behind him. “Wanna yell at me?”

Tossing the papers onto the desk, Miles grabbed Alex’s arm, gave it a tug, and had him glaring his way in a split second.

“The fuck,” roared Alex, indignant at being handled this way. “What the hell are you doing, ordering around my staff, sneaking looks at private information, joking around with that disobeying idiot of assistant out there and—”

Miles gave his shoulders a nudge, making his back collide with the side of his desk. The move made Alex forget what he was about to say. But it also made his infuriation grow. He wasn’t in the mood for games. He was fucking pressed for time. That clutter on his desk needed sorting. He’d have to do that himself since nobody else ever sorted his papers the way he wanted them done. He’d yet to find something to eat. He’d had nothing but a single cup of coffee to drink and the headache to show for it!

“Sexual frustration,” noted Miles with a vexing air of amusement, “doesn’t become you. I think I should blow you.”

 _Huh_.

Alex pressed pause on his sour mood and let his eyes linger on Miles as he sank down to his knees. The call could wait, right? “I quite concur with your assessment.” To demonstrate his agreement, he undid his belt and pants in the nick of time.

That very talented, always eager tongue of Miles darted out and he wet his lips in a move so sultry and seductive it made his already tight balls quiver in anticipation. “Fancy ass way of saying ‘please do’!” Warm fingers circled around his hard flesh. “You look awfully stressed,” Miles pointed out, the words traced with a streak of concern. “I feel bad for the way I left this morning. I want to apologize for that.” Soft lips kissed the tip. “Let me help you find a release.” That sparkle of delight in Miles’ eyes made Alex sigh. Miles had never hidden the fact that he found the act of giving a blow-job as enjoyable as receiving one and Alex sure loved getting his cock sucked!

He sank his mouth down, inch by inch, all the way. Effortless. Gifted bastard! Miles hummed. Alex growled as he drove his hands through the clipped hair of his lover, expressing his appreciation for his incredible ministrations. “You’re so fucking good at this!”

“Am I? Hmmm…”

“Ahh…Miles…Mi…I’m gonna…oh Miles…”

Miles sucked hard. His head bopped up and down the spit-slicked dick and because he was wound up tight and terse and as far from a peaceful state as he could possibly be, the orgasm hit Alex much sooner than he’d have preferred.

Violent shivers hit him as he spilled himself.

Squatting in front of him, completely at ease, a casual expression of pride on his face, Miles grinned. “Feelin’ better?”

Alex sat up, grabbed his head, then took his lips in a ravishing kiss that stole both their breaths. “Stand up.” Miles did. Hands went to his ass and he pulled him toward him, making him climb onto the desk. The bulge in his pants was at eye-level with Alex and he hurried to unzip him, eager to claim his prize. “For me?”

“Babe…”

As Alex laid back down on the desk amongst a pile of papers that were sensitive in regard to the information they contained, Miles, unaware of that, wiped them off the top and rolled to his side, bringing Alex with him. “Big desk. Fits two people,” he chuckled.

Laughing at that, moving on top of his regal desk which now had to make do as an impromptu mattress, his legs bracketed Miles and Alex bent forward, ghosting his lips, hushing, “It’s sturdy, too.”

“Tried it out before?”

“Not yet. But I do admit, there’s a fantasy that’s been playing on repeat, involving you and me and this desk.”

“Oh yeah?” Dimples made Miles’ face light up. “Are you doing the desk and I’m there, watching?”

“Funny!” He caught his lips and kissed him. “You’re doing me, and the desk is watching!”

“Naughty desk.”

Alex grinned into the lip-lock when he sensed Miles’ large hands giving his ass a good squeeze. “Mmmh, you taste like coffee…” His fingers slid towards his boyfriend’s pants. “Raise your ass.”

Miles did. Alex roughed the pants down just far enough. “Wanna do it on top of this thing?”

Climbing off, Alex shook his head. “Bent me over it.”

Not needing to be told twice, Miles quickly moved into place. Lips kissed his nape as he pushed into Alex’s tight hole. “You like it this way?”

“I do,” wailed Alex, pressing back against him. His eyes were fluttering. His mouth ran dry. And for the first time all day, he felt calm and untroubled. Here, within Miles’ arms, joined with him, the world was warm and cozy and free of problems. “Yes, babe! That’s it!”

*

“You honestly think _Kane Inc._ sounds like a crime syndicate?” Miles smoothed out the wrinkles and scrunched his nose in disapproval as they turned out to be permanent. “Fuck, I’ll have to change. Sex addicts that we are,” he laughed, “we should stash some pressed, spare suits in our offices! Gary will know what we’ve done.”

“If he does,” Alex pointed out, “he won’t say anything. He’s an idiot, but not stupid.”

“Why don’t you like him?”

A shrug rolled off Alex’s shoulders. “He’s…weird. Professional, yes. He can work, but he’s, like, boring, and needs to be told everything. Janine was different. She knew what I needed before I had to say anything. She keeps making remarks, you know? Telling me how I should have treated her better as my assistant now that I know what life without her is like!”

“Find a new one, then.” Done getting as presentable as he managed to achieve, Miles reached out and brushed strands of hair from Alex’s forehead. “You look tired. Wanna be alone tonight? It’s alright if you do.”

“No,” Alex was quick to declare. “Just need some sleep, that’s all. ‘twas a stressful week so far. But…” He slid his hand over Miles’ and linked their fingers. “You can still stay over. We’ll watch tv and go to bed early.”

“To sleep,” agreed Miles with a smile. “I can do that. Our first night without sex, huh?” He leaned in for a kiss. “Look at us, getting all domesticated.”

“And old,” said Alex, laughing.

“Mr. Turner?” Gary knocked on the door. “Your one p.m. appointment is here.”

“I should go,” concluded Miles. Before he did, he crouched down and helped pick up the scattered sheets of paper.

“No peeking,” Alex warned. “You’re nosy, I know. That’s secret information!”

“Oh yes,” drawled Miles, beyond unimpressed, “I’m dying to know what…” He read the paper he held. “…Insurance Policies of _South London Steel_ are about.” An eye-roll. “It’s a bad deal, by the way.” Pointing toward the bottom line, “We’re paying half that,” he casually let on.

Alex perked up. “You are? With the same insurer?”

“Who is nosy now?!”

He snatched the files from Miles’ hands. “This is bad! I could get into trouble for this! And so could you!”

“Fine.” Miles got up. Grinned. “Ask for Julianne at _Lloyds_. She’ll help you find a proper deal.”

“Miles!”

“Later, babe!” A last cheeky smile and an airborne kiss, then he was gone.

“Julianne, huh…?” Alex had a call to make.

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 21:**

#

A fat snort. “Two or three pairs of shoes are called ‘options’. You got enough to supply a soccer team!” That was just the tip of the iceberg. The rest of it still lived at his place. If they moved in together, they’d need a house three times the size of his apartment, just to have the space for his boots collection.

A knock on the door.

Alex let go and kissed the back of Miles’ shoulder as he did so. “I love having you here. But we need to figure this out!”

Miles turned his attention back to the dishes, mumbling, “you got shoes, too!”

“I heard that,” Alex called with a grin. He opened the door and froze. “Mother?”

#

A figure dashed by, almost knocking him over. Tall. Male. Dark hair. The guy was running, holding something in his hand. “Jesus Christ,” cursed Miles, shaking his head. “Bloody idiot!”

He took a closer look at the man as he vanished off into the distance, disappearing into the throng of people who strolled idly along. That hair, that jacket, that idiot! “Alex?!”

“Was that…?” Penny turned Miles’ way, concerned. “Why’d he run?”

“Don’t know,” muttered Miles, confounded.

They were jolted once more when a massive and big guy barreled through the crowd of people, shoving others away, shouting vile curses after Alex. “Fucker, I’ll get you some day! Stole from me, bloody asshole!”

#


	21. Sundays

**End of September**

**Alex**

He loved him.

Alex realized it, now. Even though he’d assumed it for much longer than that. He’d been in love, infatuated, smitten with Miles for months. He’d felt fluttering butterflies wreaking havoc in his stomach. He’d felt himself succumbing to humiliating fits of giggling for no reason other than that loopy smile Miles would toss his way ever so casually. He’d blushed – something he couldn’t recall ever doing before! He missed him when he wasn’t there. He was the first person he wanted to call when something worth telling occurred. And when he had a bad day, curling into Miles’ arms made it all better.

But, lately, he noticed a change in the depth of his feelings for him. More so, he noticed a change in himself. He, who’d gone his whole life never planning too far ahead, suddenly spent his time gazing off into the future, looking around, and trying to figure out if Miles was there. He, who’d never cared to let people get close to avoid the mess when they’d inevitably get the boot for having gotten too close, had found himself slowing down the car the other day when passing a for-sale sign in front of a big town three-story house in Mayfair. He, who hated disturbances when work kept him busy and who used to revel in the quietness of an early morning spent alone, nowadays craved the bustling of Miles’ chaotic getting-ready routine.

The heavy beats of _The Doors’ Twenty Century Fox_ filled the apartment as Alex leaned with shoulder against the wall, watching Miles sway his ass from side to side as he moved to the heady tunes. His boyfriend wore nothing but those overpriced designer briefs that proudly pronounced their label on the waistband. When he’d made fun of him for being such a label hoe, Miles had warned him that one day he’d show up wearing tighty-whities out of spite. The day had yet to come.

And he wore rubber gloves. Bright yellow ones, covered in soap bubbles. Miles was doing the dishes and, as always, he did them meticulously. Scrubbing the plate, holding the plate up, inspecting it, scrubbing some more if necessary – Alex’s tableware had never looked better! Even his mother had remarked upon it. There was a perfectly functioning dishwasher not two feet away from the sink but it was the fancy, high-end kind that had come with the kitchen. Alex knew how to work it…somehow. He’d discovered the on/off switch and made do with whatever the machine did if one just pressed some buttons randomly. Miles had tried to get it to start once and never tried again. _‘It’s faster if I do it by hand,’_ he’d told him. For somebody who ran a software company that massive, he was remarkably bad at handling smart electronics.

But that made him who he was. Every time Alex believed he’d figured him and his job out, he’d only end up proven wrong. He’d tried explaining dividends to him repeatedly. At one time, he’d used spreadsheets and a hand-drawn comic – Miles had laughed through the entire attempt! After that, Alex had been convinced his man wouldn’t know how to pick a tax return out of a lineup! Two hours later, he’d overheard Miles on the phone, lecturing a representative of an insurance company on the finer points _business net retention_ , a topic even Alex struggled with. He was beginning to think that, most of the time, Miles simply didn’t care for certain aspects and therefore pretended not to understand them.

Alex did the same whenever his mother brought up babies.

“You gonna keep staring at me like that, or do you plan on helping?”

Startled out of his thoughts, he chuckled, meeting Miles’ waiting expression. “I’ll keep staring for now.”

Laughter from Miles. Which quickly stopped when Alex put his hands on his waist, slowly sliding them forward. “The weather is nice. Wanna go out today?”

A blissful sigh filled the air as Miles leaned into him. His head rolled back, and their cheeks touched. “There’s a flea market. Old records, music paraphernalia…we could go there.”

“Mmhhh, sounds good.” Lips brushed against Miles’ earlobe as his grip on him got tighter. “You smell like dish soap.” He inhaled, then kissed his jaw. “Citrus and chemicals. The good stuff.”

“Extra soapy,” Miles pointed out. He’d gotten it on his last shopping trip. It amazed Alex how domesticated he was. A visit to the supermarket got him as excited as a rock concert. He looked for articles that were on sale even though he’d enough money to buy the entire chain and then some, and Alex’s fridge no longer stood empty. Then again, it contained little edible items, either.

Mostly vegetables and natural yogurt. His mother’s tofu tasted better! But he always brought back a box of Alex’s favorite cookies. And when Miles made dinner, Alex continuously ate more than was good for him.

“I gained four Kilograms since we got together,” he’d complained to him the other day. “Thanks to you and your frying pan!”

Miles had considered it a solid compliment and responded with a sunny smile and a big kiss.

On the other hand, Alex’s thighs and ass had gotten toned thanks to all the sex they were having!

His mouth trailed down his neck. “And after that, we could stop by that little bakery for that cheesecake you love so much.”

“Cheesecake?” A raspy chuckle slipped from Miles’ throat as he sank further into Alex’s arms. “Are you planning anything?”

“I wouldn’t say it like that.” Before Miles could slip away, Alex locked his arms entirely around him. Nuzzling the spot right below his ear, knowing Miles was hyper-sensitive there and easily distracted by it, Alex lowered his voice, giving his best at sounding sexy, hoping masking the words behind a husky layer of sultriness might make him more susceptible to what he was about to suggest. “The guest room…I know I said you could dump your shit there. But you got a lot of shit. And we should consider arranging it into a certain order…”

Kisses and caresses notwithstanding, Miles stiffened. “Are you telling me to tidy up my room?”

“Uh…yes?” He stopped and dropped his forehead against his shoulder. His tone dropped from enticing to pleasureless. “I fell over a bunch of shoes last night, trying to get to the blankets! I managed to free some space in the closet, and I emptied out a drawer!”

“My clothes are neatly folded inside the suitcase,” Miles protested.

“Yes,” agreed Alex, groaning. “Three suitcases, a carry-on, a duffle that sits in the corner and is full of shirts. It’s almost October,” he pointed out, to stretch his confusion since, “it’s cold. What do you need that many shirts for? And, as I said, you got a whole lot of shoes!”

“A drawer in the bedroom is not going to fix that!” He sounded petulant. “I like options.”

A fat snort. “Two or three pairs of shoes are called ‘options’. You got enough to supply a soccer team!” That was just the tip of the iceberg. The rest of it still lived at his place. If they moved in together, they’d need a house three times the size of his apartment, just to have the space for his boots collection.

A knock on the door.

Alex let go and kissed the back of Miles’ shoulder as he did so. “I love having you here. But we need to figure this out!”

Miles turned his attention back to the dishes, mumbling, “you got shoes, too!”

“I heard that,” Alex called with a grin. He opened the door and froze. “Mother?”

Penny sighed heavily. “Mom, dear. I’m called ‘mom’. And I love you, too.” She lunged for him and Alex felt his bones being crushed to rubble. “I brought cake. I thought we could eat that later over a nice cup of tea.”

“It’s not even eleven,” he remarked with a dark sense of foreboding. Did she plan on staying? The whole day? “Um…” Scrunching his nose, dreading her reply, he asked, “Why are you here?”

“Because I’m your mother,” his mother said, wearing a frown of indignation on her face. She let go and ambled past him, shrugging out of her coat, then handing it to him. Her eyes settled on his bare feet and moved upward, not agreeing with the view. “It’s almost noon, son. Have we forgotten to put on our clothes this morning?” He was wearing briefs and nothing else. After a lazy morning in bed with Miles he hadn’t bothered getting dressed yet. Maybe they’d return to bed and that meant having to undress again. Staying in underwear simply saved time!

_Shit!_

_Miles._

Alex winced as he all but raced passed her, trying to block her way. “Mom, er…this isn’t a good time. I…haven’t…cleaned up yet! It’s a mess in there, in the kitchen. And—”

She was halfway there and making no moves to slow down. “I expect little else, dear. Grab me the vacuum cleaner and I’ll help y—” Her words stopped as she rounded the corner.

Whirling around, he quickly glanced into his kitchen. It was empty. No Miles. His eyes roamed on, into the adjoining living room. No Miles, either.

_Phew!_

“It’s so…tidy,” Penny breathed out, awestruck. Her fingertip ran across the chest next to the door and she inspected her tip. “Not a single dust crumb. And the table…” She took a closer look, not trusting what she saw from afar. “It’s clean.” A beat, then her focus shot to him. “Alexander David Turner, did you hire a maid?!”

“What, no!”

Yes, he did. But she came by for just for the heavy stuff. Cleaning the windows, doing laundry, dusting. And he told her not to clean too well, lest his mother figured it all out. Therefore, he understood his apartment wasn’t clean because of the maid. It was clean because Miles was here all the time and the guy had a love-hate relationship with order. He needed it in the rooms that he frequented. But the guest room…

“Your apartment is an impeccable state! What is going on?” Penny crossed her arms, pinning Alex to the wall with her best ‘I’m your mother, don’t you dare lie to me’-look. “There’s no tidier than this, son!” She frowned, then huffed at his continued silence – what was he supposed to say anyway? “Let me see the bedroom!”

“No. No!” Miles could be there. And even if he wasn’t, the room reeked of relationship! His huge, king-sized bed was in complete disarray. Both pillows had head-shaped indentations. Two phone chargers were in there, one on each bedside table. There’s was a pile of books on Alex’s and a pile of contracts on Miles’. His boyfriend easily got cold feet at night and after he got up for water or to use the bathroom, he climbed back in and tended to slip his icy toes right between Alex’s warm legs, startling him awake. To stop that cruel act of torture, Alex had gone and gotten him faux-fur adorned slippers to wear around the house at night. They were next to Miles’ side of the bed.

The bathroom. Alex swallowed hard. That was off-limits, too! Two toothbrushes sat in the cup. A wide variety of fancy-ass hair products lined up inside the shower. It was laughable, truly. Miles’ hair was clipped short, but he used more than those lingerie models with the wavy long tresses would! Two big towels hung side by side. Two robes, too. _“They really do embroider them with whatever you want,”_ Miles had told him excitedly, a giddy smirk on his face, when holding up a giant _Harrods_ bag last week. Then he’d pulled the robes out and presented them. _“One reads ‘Top’ and one reads ‘Bottom’. We can wear whatever we feel like!”_

Alex had laughed so hard he’d nearly fainted. After that, he’d promptly tried them one. First ‘Top’, then ‘Bottom’. Afternoon well spent.

Quickly putting an arm around his mom’s shoulders, Alex guided her to the kitchen table with gentle but determined force. “Here, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Water, tea, coffee?”

“I’d like to use the bathroom,” she said.

He bit his cheek from cursing. “Use the guest bathroom.”

“The other one too clean for me?”

“Mother, just do it.”

“Oh, fine. But I’d really like to kno—”

Teeth ground together. What was with the clipped words tod—

“I counted your shoes. You got more than I do!”

Eyes wide, he spun around and stared at Miles in disbelief. Behind him, he could sense his mother raising to her feet, peeking over his shoulder.

“Huh. Interesting. He’s in his underwear, too, I see.”

Miles only now caught on to their visitor and jumped to the side, hiding all but his head behind the door. “Misses Turner. Er, hello.”

“What a pleasure to see you again, Miles. So much of you.”

“Mom,” hissed Alex.

“I’ll get dressed,” muttered Miles, slipping away fast.

Alex grunted audibly. Where were those damned holes in the floor when one needed one?

Penny took her sweet time settling back down on the chair, folding her hands, adjusting strands of her hair, all the while sporting a curiosity that Alex knew was about to burst open.

“So…”

There it was.

“He’s here, too. In his underwear. Fascinating.”

“Not really,” Alex lied fast. “We went out last night, got drunk. He crashed here. End of story.”

“Ah.”

The small nod that rolled off her shoulders grated against his already shaken composure. God, damnit! He should have known. They should have known. It was bloody Sunday. His mother had a habit of showing up on the weekend, forever unannounced. But they’d gotten complacent! They’d gotten comfortable! They’d gotten stupid! “Ah, what?” he asked, tone sharp.

“Ah, as in, Pauline told me quite a similar story. Almost word for word. Drunk. Crashing. Spending the morning together. Should I worry about your alcohol consumption or the fact that you prefer to spend time with Miles reliving your teenage years rather than finding a wife and settling down?”

He rolled his eyes. “Reliving my teenage years? Come on, I was a perfectly good teenager, in case you forgot! I hardly ever got drunk, or into trouble.”

Penny gaped at him as though he’d grown a second head. “You got drunk all the time, my dear boy. Do you think all the other moms and I didn’t talk? I know that you stayed over at Jamie’s so often ‘cause his parents had a busy social life and they trusted you much more than I did. The trips you took to ‘music festivals’ with that band of yours? Those were party trips!”

Miles cleared his throat from his spot in the doorway. “Is it save to enter?”

“Dear, don’t be ridiculous! Come, sit down next to me!” She patted the chair to her side.

 _‘I’d run and hide if I were you,’_ Alex thought.

“What brings you to Alex’s place this early,” Penny probed, “on a Sunday morning?”

“Er…” Miles covertly glanced at Alex, who was about to mouth the answer when his mom’s ever-present gaze landed his way. “I, uh, crashed here…last night? Yes, I did that!”

“Did you really?”

“That’s enough,” Alex pronounced. He’d have loved to go and get dressed as well, but he didn’t trust his mother alone with Miles. The poor guy was scared of her and might end up admitting a little more than was good for them. Besides, without supervision, she’d end up ransacking his place. “Mom, he and I had plans. And, _once again_ , you’re here without a heads-up.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed an appointment to see my son.”

“You don’t,” he countered, “but like I said, we have plans.”

“I could join you.”

“You can’t.”

“It’s it a men-only thing?”

Eyebrows furrowed, he observed her. Did she know? Did she have a hunch? Squinting, paying even more attention, he zeroed in on the way her eyes creased with hidden amusement. She sure was enjoying herself, but that wasn’t necessarily a sign for something. She always delighted whenever he was visibly annoyed or uncomfortable. It was a mothers-thing. There was a probing glint in her expression that concerned him, though. As though she was waiting for him to trip over his words. She didn’t know his secret _yet_ , then, but she had uncovered that there was one.

“It’s not a men-only thing,” Miles explained to her, facing Penny’s way, chuckling at the silly suggestion. He didn’t see Alex shaking his head. “It’s a flea market. Music and such.”

“How exciting! I haven’t been to a flea market in years.”

At first, Alex inhaled deeply, then he exhaled sharply, and at last, he gave up. “Fine. You can come along. But I swear, if you keep this up, this thing that you’re doing—” He pointed a finger at her. “You know what I mean! Then it’ll be a short trip. Are we clear, mother?”

“Perfectly so, dear.”

He closed his eyes and grumbled a curse. “You go use the guest bathroom, and I’ll get dressed. We’ll leave in five minutes.”

*

How on earth had he ended up as the third wheel on his date with Miles, wondered Alex, tailing his boyfriend whose arm was linked with that of his mother. They got along almost too well. Chatting on and on about topic after topic, the two of them never stopped for air or to check if he was still there. He might as well have gone for a beer. They wouldn’t have noticed! “Oh look,” he exclaimed, talking to himself by now, and mocking excitement, “a rare record. I should get it!”

The guy manning the desk tossed him an odd look, probably thinking he was a mad man. Alex wouldn’t blame him. He flipped through the boxes of records and couldn’t believe his eyes when he spotted the bright orange sleeve of _Iron Maiden_ ’s first single. “How much for _this_ one?”

“Two pounds. Read the label,” he drawled, clearly bothered having to say it out loud. “All records in that box are two pounds!”

Two— “Are you fucking insane?”

The burly, elderly guy shrugged a shoulder. “One pound? Buy it or not!”

As his jaw hit the floor, Alex shook his head in shock. “That’s insulting, man! Do you even know what you have there?” Miles would flip out if he saw this! He loved _Iron Maiden_. He’d caught him air-guitaring the shit out of their songs more than once. “That’s the kind of record people strive to have! It’s the first single! It’s—”

“I don’t fucking care,” he barked back with a heavy Hackney accent and a booming voice that began to draw attention. “Move on, punk.”

He pulled out a crumpled note of money. “I want that record!”

“Not selling it to you.”

“What?” He recoiled in irritation. Even checked over his shoulder, to see if others had heard and now shared his bewilderment. “Why not? I’ll pay you your bloody two Pounds for it! I’ll pay five!”

“You pissed me off and called me insane. Fuck off, man!”

Alex grabbed his wallet, snatched out a fifty Pound note, and held it out. “Take this, all of it! I want it!”

“Not selling!”

“Why the hell not?” He was getting frustrated. He wanted this thing, no matter what. “Do you even realize how stupid you are, refusing fifty Pounds for a record that you _just_ offered to sell me for a single Pound? You had math in school, right? If we take the originally marketed price tag, you’d make an extra of forty-eight Pounds by taking this note of cash! That’s a fucking net-profit of 2400 percent! You’d have to be some remarkable level of dumb to refuse that, mate!”

“Did you just call me dumb?”

“Only,” Alex stretched, feeling trapped inside a bad joke that wouldn’t end, “if you refuse my money!”

“Which I do,” he snapped back. “Fucking get lost, you smug prick or regret it!”

This wasn’t happening, was it? Alex drove both hands through his hair. “Un-fucking-believable!” This guy, this…mountain of stupidity…this… “You know what, I’ll make this easy for you!” He pulled out another note of cash. “Another fifty. This makes one hundred Pounds Sterling _for you_! You get this, I’ll get the record. Yes?”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake!” The two men stared at each other. Alex considered his options. He could offer even more money, but judging from this prick’s reaction, he’d only respond by being even more stubborn. He could get Miles, make him buy it. Charmer that he was, he’d have no problem getting it. But Alex wanted to gift him the record. He’d love it! Feeling out of options, he did something he’d never done in his life…

**Miles**

He’d had his worries, especially after this morning. Seeing Penny Turner sitting at Alex’s kitchen table, eyes glued to his half-naked state in a mixture of shock and amusement had certainly gotten him to regret leaving the bedroom at all that day. But, despite the rocky start, things had gone down surprisingly smooth. He’d known that Alex would be far from happy at the prospect of spending their morning with his mother, but he’d wanted to be welcoming of her. She should think of him as nice and kind. If she ever did find out that he was with Alex, he didn’t want her to think Alex had made a bad decision. He wanted her to like him.

So, he’d ignored Alex’s vigorous headshake and bravely paved the way for her to come along. And it turned out it had been a wise decision. She found his jokes funny and told him she considered him to be a very polite, very charming man. Miles was ecstatic.

Alex, meanwhile, struggled with the imminent ending of his beloved weekend. He treasured Saturdays. That’s when the weekend was at full force. Sundays, the weekend came to a close. And Alex hated so much as being reminded of it. Sundays, he wanted to do as little as possible, only do what made him happy, and enjoy the shit out of it. Miles found it adorable how hard this grown-up man clung to his free days.

Where was he anyway? He looked around.

“Your wife stays in California, then?” Penny had looped her arm around his and asked question after question. “She’s quite a busy bee. Don’t you miss her? I imagine that you do! Pauline told me how rarely the two of you see each other. Aren’t you concerned that your continued separation might make it hard when it comes to family planning?”

“That would be the case if Lena and I were to plan for that, but as I’ve told my mother, I don’t see any children in my future. And neither does my wife. She loves traveling the world and we knew what we were getting into when we married.”

“True, that,” acknowledged Penny, nodding. “Yet, you must accept that she and I have our hopes set high on eventual grandchildren. And you say now that you don’t want any. Can you really be sure? I mean, have you ever given it any real thought? Do think about it, will you? Don’t do it now,” she told him, cutting off Miles’ ready reply. “Do it when you have time and a quiet moment. Will you? Promise me, dear!”

Because she was Alex’s mother and promising to think about it didn’t hurt anybody, Miles dutifully nodded his head. “I will.”

“Thank you. I also want to thank you for this lovely morning. It was nice, what you did. I know my son wouldn’t have invited me to join in. He likes to act old and pretends to be bothered by his mom, especially in the company of people he tries to impress.” At that, she gave his hand a tap. “But he’s still my lovely little boy when he needs his mom. Did you happen to notice any maids leaving his apartment, by the way?”

Maids? “Uh…no.” As Penny took in her surroundings and the people, he mulled over her prior comment some more. Alex tried to impress him? Whatever would make her say that? There was no need for that, at any rate. Miles was already mesmerized by him. He was a bloody marvel, his man. Insanely intelligent, but strikingly silly at the same time. He could give lectures on the most complicated of issues, waffle on and on about numbers and theories, and yet be a bloody goofball a second later. These days, his temper was flaring up faster than usual, thanks to all that stress that the sale of Edward’s company brought with it, and it tended to get the better of him in the most inopportune times. But it never lasted for long. One joke and his eyes went from dark and infuriated to sparkling with sunshine and laughter in the fraction of a second. Sometimes, Miles poked him just to watch that happening.

The shoes were such a thing. Getting him annoyed over shoes was a guaranteed way of distracting him from work. He, too, hated having them flung all across the guestroom floor. But each time that Alex stepped into that room, he came back prissy and miffed. That’s when Miles got his chance to make him smile again by kissing those surly frowns right off his face.

And Alex never held on to those moods for long. A bit of kissing and cuddling and Alex was as happy as he could be, something that, in return, made Miles as happy as he could be.

What a smile he had. Soft and hidden when other people were in the room and nobody could know that it was Miles that Alex was smiling at. He used that one often. The big, wide one was rarer but for Miles, it was easy to trigger. It required long, lazy kisses, some whispered jokes, and a bit of banter. Sometimes, it came when Miles did something inane and Alex found it funny without even realizing it. His lips would stretch to each side of his face and his eyes beamed like a full moon on a clear winter night. Sometimes, Miles did silly shit just to provoke that smile. Then there was that big, giggly laugh that always boomed when a particularly funny thing occurred. Or, when he laughed at himself.

Alex could laugh at himself incredibly well. He knew he had a short fuse and a bit of a cranky attitude at times. But he wasn’t mean by any stretch of the word. He was caring and sincere and generous and always wanted what was best for people. It bothered him when time got wasted since he found it valuable. It didn’t equal treating each moment as if it were the last one. But he liked to spend his days doing the things that were necessary, and once those were done, he did the things he adored. Even if that involved nothing but napping on the couch, nestled into his favorite blanket. It was his time. His prerogative to use his time in the manner that made him happy.

And lately, that happiness included Miles’ presence.

A figure dashed by, almost knocking him over. Male. Dark hair. The guy was running, holding something in his hand. “Jesus Christ,” cursed Miles, shaking his head. “Bloody idiot!”

He took a closer look at the man as he vanished off into the distance, disappearing into the throng of people who strolled idly along. That hair, that jacket, that idiot! “Alex?!”

“Was that…?” Penny turned Miles’ way, concerned. “Why’d he run?”

“Don’t know,” muttered Miles, confounded.

They were jolted once more when a massively big guy barreled through the people, shoving others away, shouting vile curses after Alex. “Fucker, I’ll get you someday! Stole from me, bloody asshole!”

“He did no such thing!” Penny instantly defended her son’s honor, nudging a stranger away, to bare the way to the tall guy. For a tiny woman like her, Miles found her to be impressively imposing. “He doesn—”

And, just like Alex, she had a temper too hot to handle. “Let’s go right now,” he shushed her quickly, guiding her with him and away from attention before the burly guy took note of her.

“But—”

“Let’s find Alex, shall we?”

*

Penny waited nearby, by the car, while Miles had told her he’d look for him by the little bakery they’d often frequented and which was nary a block away. What he didn’t tell her was that Alex had texted him, telling him he’d be waiting, hiding in the alley next to it. “Bring a hat,” he’d texted, too. “I need to hide.”

Miles had rolled his eyes. But he’d bought the next hat he’d spotted. An ‘I love Harry Styles’ cap. He found him leaning against the wall, catching his breath. “Got some explaining to do, babe! What the hell is going on?!” Eyes landed on the record on the ground next to him. He skimmed the title, recognized the color. Took a double-take. “That…for real?”

“Cost me a hundred bucks!”

He gaped. “That’s a steal!”

At that, Alex burst into laughter. “You got no idea!” For the next five minutes, he proceeded to tell him all. From the moment he’d gotten into an argument to the point where he’d shoved a hundred Pounds into the guy’s hands only to run off with the record. “I didn’t steal it, technically. I paid way more than he asked for it. He refused to sell it to me because he’s an idiot!”

By now, it was Miles who was lost in the hilarity of it all, cracking up as he held on to the wall with one hand and brushing strands of hair from Alex’s face with the other. “You fucking stole a record?”

“I left money behind!” His protest was weak and broken up by chuckles. “I was out of options! Don’t tell my mom, please. She’ll make go back and return it.”

He’d kill to witness that. Miles’ hand slid from his forehead to his nape, cupping the back of Alex’s head and tugging him closer. How perfect he looked, with those sheepish eyes and that crooked grin. He was a tiny bit embarrassed, sure. But that face? It was self-satisfied. His baby was a brash bastard. And didn’t regret what he’d done one ounce. “You’re a criminal now, huh? Should have known what I’d get into.”

“You really should have!” Alex pushed away from the wall, picked the record up. Then handed it over. “For you. You’re a fan, right?”

Miles was speechless.

Alex leaned in, brushing his lips against his. “I mean it. Take it. It’s yours.”

“It’s a rare record, Alex!”

“Yes.”

“You stole it for me?” He’d gotten into a quarrel, then rushed off, running an entire Kilometer just to escape the chance of getting caught by that man, to make _him_ a gift?

“I won’t make a habit of it,” he promised.

God, that damned nifty grin on his face really made his knees wobbly. Miles took the record with one hand and grabbed Alex’s head with the other. Lips met. And they got lost in the slow kiss, sinking against the wall together, drifting off to a place where time didn’t exist.

Only to crash back to the ground when Alex’s phone rang. “My mom.” He dropped his forehead against Miles’ chest. “Probably worried. We should head back.”

“Alright.” Miles linked their fingers and when Alex met his eyes in surprise, he shrugged. He knew it was dangerous, but this was his boyfriend who’d just done something fucking incredible for him. “Just ‘til we reach the parking lot. What are we going to tell her?”

“That he mistook me for somebody else? Can’t tell her the truth. She won’t go home for a while, you know? She had a cake with her when she got here this morning.”

“There goes my plan to have sex with you once we get home.”

“We can do that later?”

“We can and we will,” announced Miles, smiling, when snuggling up to him, arms brushing against one another.

“After we tidy up the guest room!”

“There goes my Sunday…”

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 22: **

#

“I just want to know that I did everything right,” he confessed, meeting Miles’ ever-patient expression. “This one…it got to me, I think. Working with him…especially in these last weeks, was tough. He kept telling me how well I fit into his world. How wrong he’d been about me and how equal he and I are.” What the aging tycoon had told him in an attempt at benevolence had hit Alex like a sucker punch to the gut. “I’m nothing like him.”

#

“I’ll think about it.”

He would? _No_ , Alex decided quickly. It wasn’t a resounding ‘yes’. Therefore, he’d not have his hopes up. Instead, he nodded lightly. This was the response he’d asked for. Maybe he’d secretly wished for something different. But he got what he wanted. And that would have to make do. “Good.”

#


	22. Plans

**Alex**

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

That small question, casually asked, reminded Alex that he wasn’t alone. He looked up from the pile of papers stacked in his hands. Hours ago, he’d sat down on his couch. Wearing his favorite, worn-out joggers, legs drawn up and crossed, he’d finished the evening emptying out a box of cookies and getting lost in thought despite his best intentions to get some work done. It was Wednesday evening, or night? It was late. The sun had set; he noticed only now as he cast a glance around the room. Across from him, on the other side of the coffee table, perched upon a massive pillow, on the floor, was Miles. He was typing away on his laptop. He’d heard the clacking sounds of his fingers flying over the keys all night. A part of him had been aware of his presence. But by now, he’d gotten so used to spending time with him that he stopped being hyper-aware of it. Miles was no longer a novel addition to his days. He belonged to his life.

Responding to his question with a fond smile, appreciating the note of concern he’d heard in it, Alex shook his head, an attempt at quelling any possible worries he might have formed. Nervous wasn’t the word Alex would use, even though he did feel strangely off-balance. He was… What was a better term to describe how he felt? “I’m…not yet ready, or, like, certain? Guess I keep expecting something to go wrong at the last second.”

The sale of _South London Steel_ had, at long last, reached the final stage. He’d gotten the buyer to go for the kill and to raise the offer one last time, by that convincing the board that this was the best deal they could get. Everything was _almost_ perfect. Except, the signatures had yet to be made. The contracts were printed out, the notaries would arrive at Edward’s office tomorrow shortly after nine, and then, if all went well, by ten, Edward would be rid of his company but go home with a comfortable sum of money that would allow the old man to live out his retirement in his sprawling mansion without ever worrying about an unpaid bill again. And Alex? He’d leave the meeting with his own cut of the profit. A nice, big piece of a massive cake.

There was little left to do. The papers in his hands weren’t pressing. That was work for a different client. Far from urgent. He could go to bed, sleep, get some rest. But Miles was busy with his emails, and Alex was feeling uncharacteristically anxious and…well, maybe he was nervous, he conceded to himself. In his head, he was going through the agreements again. Every line he’d ingrained on his mind. Every paragraph he knew by heart. Had he missed anything? Had the lawyers missed anything?

One mis-dotted little letter and the whole thing would have to be pushed again. More days would pass, then. More waiting, more doubts, more wasted thoughts.

He wanted the damned thing to be done with. It had dragged on for too long already. He’d lost too many nights of sleep over this sale and he was sure he’d even sacrificed some principles and a bit of pride. The sooner the signatures could dry, the faster he could forget Edward and his stuffy beliefs. “I just want to know that I did everything right,” he confessed, seeking out Miles’ forever patient gaze. “This one…it got to me. Working with him, especially in these last weeks, was tough. He kept telling me how well I fit into his world. How wrong he’d been about me and how similar he and I are.” What the aging tycoon had told him in an attempt at benevolence had hit Alex like a sucker punch to the gut. “I’m nothing like him.”

Miles agreed with a resounding, “No.” He shut the lid of his laptop as he got up from the floor, before making his way over to him. Bare feet carried him across the carpet and Alex was transfixed by the way the plush carpet fibers parted beneath Miles’ toes. There was something strikingly intimate about it. Here, Miles was, wearing nothing but faded sweats, comfortably moving around the apartment, feeling at home.

Alex moved the papers from his lap as Miles sank into the cushions on his left, slinging his arm across his stomach and gathering him close. Alex slid right into his embrace and snuggled in. “I don’t want to be like him, Mi. I don’t want to be cold and dismissive and tie my life to my company.”

His free arm, Miles wrapped around Alex’s shoulder, and Alex reached up, covering his hand with his own. This was his favorite position to be in. Tangled and knotted together with Miles, unable to tell where one ended and the other began. That’s when he was convinced that all the steps he’d taken in life had been the right ones because they had led him here. And _here_ was perfect.

“You’re nothing like him, babe. You’re kind and open and—”

“I’m a loner.” It wasn’t a profound thing to admit. It was a fact. But he’d never said it out loud. He raised his eyes to capture those of his boyfriend, whose brows were knotted together. Clearly, Miles hadn’t expected that statement. “I know I say that I’m not. And I keep telling mom that I got all those friends. And I do have some. Just…”

“You spend time with Janine and her friends. You’re enjoying yourself when we go out—”

“With your friends? Yes.” Friends that had no idea about the depths of their feelings for one another. “And Sally and the others, they’re Janine’s friends. I’m not complaining. I’m merely saying I don’t want to be that person that pushes others away or gets lost in a life that I never wanted.” For too long a time he’d built roadblocks to make sure people around him never got too close. It wasn’t until being with Miles and discovering how nice it was to have a real connection with somebody, that he began to see what he’d been missing out on for all those years. “I’m serious about my year off, you know? It’s not empty words. I’ll do it. I want to live a little. Go and have fun and experience things.”

“Good,” said Miles. “I hope you will.”

“And I will travel the world.” He gave Miles’ hand a squeeze. “Not now. Soon. Someday soon.” His fingers went to Miles' pinkie. To the golden band that wrapped around it. He twirled it like he’d come to do whenever he needed to busy himself. Which happened to be the case whenever he found himself doing something without knowing the outcome. “You don’t have to say anything to what I’m about to ask. You don’t even have to react, alright? Just…think about it. Can you do that? Please?” Tilting his head to the side, pressing his nose against Miles’ scruffy cheek and finding comfort and reassurance in the touch, he whispered, “I’d like you to come with me. I know it’s a lot to ask. You have your company, all those responsibilities.” There were probably a million reasons why that couldn’t happen. Chances were Alex could list all the reasons that argued against it much better than Miles could. In alphabetical order, too. “But…I mean…don’t say no yet. Don’t say anything yet.” He forced his eyes away, afraid he’d catch a reaction on his boyfriend’s face that he’d misread, or worse, read right. “Putting it out there, ‘tis all.” Fingers went to twirl the ring some more.

Warm lips kissed his cheek and Alex blinked in surprise at the gentleness of it. Miles was never not gentle, but this kiss was tender and light and a caress of another caliber. Almost as if Miles considered his face fragile. “I’ll think about it.”

He would? _No,_ he decided quickly. It wasn’t a resounding ‘yes’. He’d not have his hopes up only to have them crushed in the end. Instead, he nodded calmly. This was the response he’d asked for. Maybe he’d secretly wished for something different. But he got what he wanted. And that would have to make do. “Good.”

“We should go to bed,” suggested Miles, moving on way too fast from this topic, as Alex found. Then again, he sounded fine. There wasn’t a trace of any other emotion other than old-fashioned tiredness in Miles’ voice. And he wasn’t trying to get away from him or from this moment, either. The opposite. He was lingering. His fingers were running over Alex’s belly, casually stroking him, as though time didn’t matter. Miles stifled a yawn by hiding his face inside the curve of his shoulder. “It’s late.”

It really was that. If anything, it was time to turn his head off and banish all those unnecessary fears from his mind. It wasn’t like him to be concerned about the future and there was no good cause to start now. He nodded towards the laptop. “Your emails. You were typing. I thought you weren’t done yet.”

“Been playing _Solitaire_ for an hour.” Mirth danced over Miles’ face. “I’m waiting for you to finish.”

With a snort, Alex pulled him off the couch. “I was done this morning. I’m keeping busy. Come on!”

*

Sally clinked her champagne flute against Alex’s as her head dipped forward. A nod of acknowledgment. “You did better than I. I’ll get you next time.”

He chuckled, sitting at the bar, brimming with regained confidence now that he’d gotten his win. Everything had gone swimmingly and the late-night worries had been for naught. Instead of having a clear mind, however, he was acutely conscious of Miles’ hand as it kept brushing against his thigh. Standing immediately next to him, entirely too close for Alex’s taste for it interfered greatly with his composure, Miles was chatting away with some people, discussing real estate in California. It seemed to bore him. He kept trying to shift the topic away from that. “Try,” he told Sally, forcing himself to pay attention to her and not drool over the man to his left. She was becoming a genuine friend, he found. They’d talk business and share stories. She’d come to the bar as a favor to him. Edward, curse him, still considered her to be Alex’s beloved. Alex was tempted to suggest a public breakup, to spare her the need to keep this charade up for much longer, but judging from her enthusiasm, she seemed to appreciate it.

“All those blustering male egos,” she’d said, laughing. “It'll serve me well to have you as my boyfriend. Makes ‘em keep their distance!”

She tilted her glass from left to right as a smile crept up her lips. “You got that guy from New York flying back in soon, I’ve heard. He’s got an eye out on a company that I got both of mine firmly aimed at. Expect some meddling from me. Friendly warning,” she let him know. “Spotted some reporters tonight.” After the sale, Alex had invited everyone involved, including the buyer and the seller, to drinks. The exclusive bar was packed with people who all wanted free champagne and a chance to mix and mingle. “The _Times of London_ sent their best guy. Any chance you’ll namedrop me, get my name out there?”

That made him laugh out loud. “You’re gutsy, you know? This is my victory party and here you are, asking me for free publicity and a chance to win the next battle?”

“So?” She flashed her white teeth at him with such a flourish of tenacity that Alex felt bad for the poor soul who’d ever mistake her for a daisy and lose a hand to her thorns.

Speaking of hands. Miles had switched gears and ran his up and down the side of his leg. Harmless as it was, covert and out of view from anybody, it was messing with Alex’s self-control in fierce ways. He wanted to reach out, entwine their fingers. He wanted to grab his fine silver tie and tug on it, to capture his lips for the kiss he was craving for all day. He fancied crumpling that delicate silk fabric and leaving unmissable creases that let everyone know that Miles was his and his alone.

It had been a rough couple of weeks, and he wanted his reward for all that exertion and time and effort. Sure, money had been made. But it had meant countless hours locked up in his office, endless nights spent hammering out the details, and innumerable moments with Miles that had been cut too short because of demanding calls and meetings. Now that it was all done with, he had a different kind of prize in mind.

“Heads-up,” Sally warned, nudging Miles' arm. “Edward incoming.”

Miles’ hand went away. Alex bit back a groan.

“Miss Sally,” Edward greeted her, tipping his head like the gentleman of the old that he was, only to cast her with a shadow of disapproval. “I almost didn’t recognize you, dressed like a man in that outfit.”

“Women have been wearing pants for quite some time now. I dare say since the beginning of the last century. Even before. You know…around the time you were born.” She wiggled her flute. “Excuse me.”

“Quite a girl you got on your hand, Turner. She’s not exactly the demure type, is she? Do you really want that sort as your life companion? After everything she did to torpedo our win?”

“ _That sort_ ,” he heard Miles muttering next to him. Alex bit back a grin.

Miles flashed a radiant beam Edward’s way, one that quickly grew by another layer, one of mischief, when he faced Alex. “He does enjoy a bit of spunk every now and then. Don’t you, Al?”

His man sidled up to him, an arm slung nonchalantly around Alex’s shoulder. A move of utter and thorough innocence. Two friends, nothing more and nothing less. And yet, Alex felt that slow-simmering heat become blistering as Miles’ normally tranquil eyes sparkled with impropriety. Miles had a glass or two and there was a light, rose-tinted hue around his nose. It matched that glow in his orbs, like a crackling in the air that announced a thunderstorm. He was feeling risqué tonight. Well, Alex was game. And as clandestine messages went, he tossed one Miles’ way. “I do love somebody who’s got temperament.”

Edward’s nose turned up, entirely unaware of that secret exchange taking place in front of him, and evidently appalled that somebody would willingly invite spirit into a relationship. “Seems needless. Nothing says solid companionship than knowing your partner waits for you at home.”

His sight set on Alex, Miles opposed that position summarily. “We modern folks prefer celebrating our partner’s successes together, don’t we? Especially if they are as impressive and well-deserved as this one.” He drifted closer. It wasn’t visible to any bystander or observer. But Alex felt the temperature increase with each increment he moved in on him. “Sally is a lucky lady,” stated Miles, words loaded with meaning, “being allowed to call herself yours.”

Alex’s heart was pounding fast and loud. His Miles considered himself lucky? How much he wanted to kiss him right now. To demonstrate, with what only a kiss could show, what those words did to him. Unable to it that, however, he relocated his hand to the small of Miles’ back and rested it there. It was as close to a kiss as he could get. A bit of impropriety in front of witnesses. Nothing that couldn’t be blamed on alcohol. “I think we are both lucky.”

“Spoke to a friend of mine.”

Alex tore his view away from Miles. “Huh?”

“About you,” Edward explained, not used to having to explain himself. “He’s working on a row of lectures. Successful men in business. I suggested your name, Turner. You did well. I know I was suspicious, and I had my reservations about selling my company. But I made the right decision in the end. I’ve known all along…”

 _Son of a—_ Alex wanted to punch him for this self-serving rewrite of history. His reluctance was the sole reason this damned thing had dragged on for so long!

Miles’ fingers gave his back a soft rub.

Alex relaxed against it. With a sigh, he rolled his shoulders dismissively. “It’s done now. Wait. What lectures?”

“School of Economics? You studied there.” The changing expression on Edward’s face made it obvious he considered his own deed an act of charity. A noble gesture. “Told him you could talk about the ins and outs of this transaction. What it took, why my company was such a hidden gem, and what made the buyers so eager to outdo themselves.”

The hairs of Alex's neck stood up. _‘We’re here because I’m that good of a bullshitter,’_ he wanted to blurt back. But the fingers on his back were tracing idle patterns, distracting him from his exasperation. And so, he shrugged it off and met Edward’s idea with the response it deserved. “It was crunching numbers and aiming for the best, little else. There were no gems to advertise.” He motioned for the bartender and held up his flute, thoroughly discounting Edward’s sharp glare. “Two more. Edward, want anything?”

“A cigar. Care to join me and my friends in the back?”

“I’m afraid I have a few of my own acquaintances to greet.”

“Do that. Turner, Kane.” He went away.

“That guy,” grunted Alex. “Fucking egomaniac!” He got handed two full glasses of champagne and held one out for Miles as the latter’s arm curled another few inches further around his shoulders. Alex’s happiness increased accordingly. “To this sale. Thanks for having my back these last weeks. I know I’ve been busy and in a bad mood, but—”

“You had a lot on your plate,” said Miles. He was eternally understanding. “And your mood wasn’t that bad.”

Alex leaned in. “Want to kiss you so badly right now.”

“Yes?” He seemed into the idea. “Wanna sneak off into a dark corner?” His eyes lit up, excited, and eager. “Make out like teenagers?”

Loud laughter escaped him. “Make out? Are you drunk?”

“A little bit.”

Drunk Miles meant dirty Miles. Alex drowned his glass at once. “Find me in the men’s room in two minutes.”

**Miles**

He was going nuts. He wanted to kiss those bloody lips as he’d never wanted anything before in his life. After weeks of watching Alex pour his hard work into that damned deal, at long last, his love got the victory he deserved. And it showed. His man was carefree, tonight. Relaxed and at ease, socializing with an effortlessness that was staggering, he looked happier and more content than he had in a bloody long time. Even Edward’s self-aggrandizing attitude hadn’t been able to get Alex’s mood to drop. His baby had shrugged it off like it was scarcely a bit of dust. He’d been so proud of him!

Seconds ticked by but far from fast. A moment ago, Alex had headed for the men’s room. Another minute and then Miles would follow. Stealthily, of course. They still had appearances to uphold.

But in the secrecy of a bathroom stall, he’d finally get his kiss. And if he was in luck and nobody else would be in there, he’d drop to his knees and blow the hell out of his boyfriend. Licking his lips at the prospect, he checked the time again. Shit. Not even a minute had gone by. Was it too soon to run after him now? Who’d know, right? Before he could think more about it, his body already jumped into action. He slid off the stool, leaving behind the untouched glass of _Dom Perignon_ , turned towards the restrooms, and—

“Miles!”

_Fuck!_

“Felix?” He bit back a grunt and forced himself to smile, aborting his mission to find Alex in favor of politeness. “What brings you here?” Not that he truly cared. Damn those social pleasantries!

“Alex won big today. A sale of that magnitude, of a company that everyone assumed would die of foreclosure? Everyone’s trying to get a glimpse at the Wunderkind. Lucky me, I know him and scored an invite!”

Alex had invited him?

“Honestly, I’m surprised to see you here,” Felix remarked. “You guys know each other?”

“Uh…yes. Old friends.” One eye on the restrooms, Miles cursed inwardly. Damnit, he had places to be! “Excuse me for a minute. I’ll—”

“That you, Miles?”

Behind Felix, another person appeared. Someone from a newspaper. A reporter. He couldn’t recall his name, but he’d interviewed Miles a while back. With a heavy and desolate sigh, he took back his seat and once more deployed that far from genuine smile. “Yep, it’s me. Long time, right?”

“Tell me you’re here ‘cause you and Alex are working on a sale together,” the guy from the press demanded, eyes bulging at the prospect. “That’d be the story of the year. There are rumors you’re selling. Any truth to that?”

Where was Lena when he needed her? He hated talking to the media. No matter what he said, it always got misconstrued. “No sale. No project. Alex and I are friends, that’s all. No story here!”

“You’re kidding? Miles Kane and Alex Turner, two of London’s biggest players, are friends? That is a story by itself!”

“It really isn’t,” he disagreed.

“Where is Alex anyway?” asked Felix, scanning the room for him.

 _‘Getting stood up,’_ bemoaned Miles inwardly. “Nearby. Somewhere.”

“Right here, actually,” announced Alex, coming up behind the reporter. Eyes dark. Well hidden in his mien was a demand for an answer. “Miles, didn’t you want to join me for a smoke?”

“Tried to. Got cornered.”

“I can see. Familiar faces.” The heavy breath that escaped him meant that he, too, recognized they were stuck now. Fingers ran through his tangled hair and he resignedly made for the stool next to Miles. “Fellas, thanks for showing up to my little party.”

“How’s it feeling, defying expectations, and succeeding with a sale this big?” The reporter, in job-mode, wasted no time getting his question out.

“He said he was that good,” Felix shot out, taking it upon himself to answer for Alex. “And you are,” he added, addressing him directly. “Of course, we came for you, to celebrate. I’m sure lots of people do that. Coming for you.”

Not believing his ears, Miles almost knocked over the glass his hand was curling around on. Married Felix had gone and dropped a line like that out loud! That punk was flirting with Alex. In front of a reporter, no less! And Alex, little shit that he was, grinned Miles’ way, merrily toying along. “Rather used to that, yes.”

Miles felt called out. Challenged. Two could play this game and he sure as hell wasn’t about to lose to some blustering redhead who wore a purple polyester tie to a grey rayon shirt! Cocking his head to the side, lifting one brow in that quizzical manner he knew Alex found admittedly charming, he pulled his lips into a curve and made his advance. “He enjoys it, too. Having people go out of their way and roll over for him, that can make his day.”

Lids rising, displaying his surprise, Alex replied with a quick chuckle and bit of innuendo of his own. “What can I say. Some are more eager than others. Not everybody, though. There are always the ones that require…” That glint in his eyes flared up for a second. “A good, old spank or two, shall I say? To be slapped into submission.”

“Shall I put that down as my quote?” The reporter snickered, oblivious to the truth behind what he hopefully assumed was a bunch of drunks making silly jokes. “Serves to underscore reports of your arrogance, Turner.”

“You call it arrogance; I call it confidence.” Alex took possession of his whiskey. The glass was damp and covered with condensation. The finest, smallest drops. As he wiped the dew away, brushing his thumb over the fine crystal in the same way that he would flick it over the tip of Miles’ cock, he lowered his lids, and from far below those lashes, he glimpsed up.

Miles swallowed hard, feeling that familiar tightness inside his pants. He’d forgotten about Felix by now. He’d forgotten about the reporter. Every part of him was attuned to Alex.

And Alex had noticed. “I deserve it, wouldn’t you agree? Miles?”

“I think,” he allowed, the words dry as sandpaper, “today’s events speak for itself.” God, if he didn’t get his hands on him soon, he was going to combust! “I’m out for a smoke. Anyone else?”

“I’ll go,” said Alex, promptly and casually uninviting anyone else from joining in. “There’s some stuff I wanted to discuss with you in private anyway. Later, guys!” In a rushed move, he was off the stool and headed for the back exit.

Following his lead, Miles trailed after him. His head was spinning, partially from the alcohol, but mostly from being turned on. His eyes were cemented to that perfect ass that swayed ever so seductively in front of him. And as soon as they were outside, as soon as Miles had assured himself that there was nobody else lurking in that dark, cigarette butts-littered alley, his patience snapped with a coarse admission. “I fucking need you!” He blurted it out with the patience of a starving man, flattening Alex’s laughing self to the wall, trapping him there. Chest to chest, he dove for that kiss he’d been hungering for all night, and whilst he usually took pride in coaxing Alex’s lush lips apart and making him lose his cool, tonight had left him depleted of any enduring qualities. He kissed him rough and full of verve. Nothing timid. His hands went directly to Alex’s ass, gripping the cheeks and squeezing ‘em good. Alex’s hips shot forward. Both angled and shifted, trying to align. Tongues dueled for power. Whimpers filled the air. And before long, Miles was painfully hard, rubbing himself gracelessly against Alex’s firm thigh. Two men making out like teenagers indeed. “If I fuck you right now, what are the odds of somebody finding us?”

A bark of breathless laughter echoed through the dark night as Alex’s hands laced through strands of Miles’ hair, bringing his mouth even closer. “Can’t do that… Shit, feels good!”

Miles tore his hungry lips away from Alex’s demonstrating ones. But he had to let go. Else, he’d toss caution to the wind and really do fuck him right here, right now. Struggling to calm his revved-up body down, settling for sweeter kisses to pace himself, he moaned against Alex’s glowing skin. “I’m so proud of you,” he hushed, nuzzling his jawline. “Everyone’s impressed. Felix is dying to get into your pants!”

“Only one is getting there tonight,” reassured Alex, purring in Miles’ arms. “Mmmhh…”

“It’s me, right?” Miles grinned. “Just making sure.”

“Oh, it’s you, babe!”

“Was hopin’ for that!”

Alex’s hands traveled from the short hair down to his shoulders, lower, to his back, until they wrapped around his waist, pulling him into his arms. Miles could never resist the offer to bathe in his warmth and he melted into his embrace, seeping into him as deep as he could, burying his face inside the crook of Alex’s shoulder. His favorite spot to rest in. There, it was marvelous and safe, and it smelled of Alex’s fancy fragrance that mixed with his natural scent. He breathed in, a firm inhale, to savor it.

As his hold got stronger, Alex drooped his head forward. Bringing his lips to his ear, he whispered, “I got a surprise for you.”

“For me?” Miles looked up, to meet his eyes.

“I’ve been so busy lately, working ‘til late into the night, reading contracts, and papers at home. Anyway, I thought we could use some time away from work. Maybe go somewhere. Like this weekend?”

“Yeah?”

“Got us a little cottage by the coast. On a beach. It’s remote and it’s got a fireplace. Just you and me, no laptops or offices. We could leave on Friday and stay ‘til Sunday. Think you could pencil that into your calendar?”

“Our first getaway together?” Miles knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he didn’t care. He bumped his nose to Alex’s, then touched his forehead to his. “Can’t wait for it.”

Alex beamed at him. “Yes?”

Miles nodded excitedly. As if stunned by the sudden intensity of his own emotions, the nodding ceased. His forehead resumed its position against Alex’s, and he raised his hand, cradling Alex’s cheek inside his palm. “You make me happy.” It wasn't like him to admit his heart’s sentiments this freely. Yet, when it came to Alex, he could barely refrain from superlatives. “A kind of happiness I’ve never felt before.” Fingers sprawled out. He leaned in for a slow-burning kiss that soon robbed both of their breaths. “I’d love to, you know? When you go on your adventure and travel the world, I’d love to come along.”

This time, it was Alex who kissed him. A thunderous one it was. Spontaneous and brash and full of promises. “It’s decided, then,” declared Alex, clutching him in his arms. Only to need one more confirmation. “You and I will do it together?”

“We will.” He didn’t know when, or how, or even where, but suddenly he couldn’t wait for this adventure. It was a rush, an unfamiliar, all-consuming need to be with him. Something troublesome occurred to him. And it had been, for some time. Continuously resurfacing to the top of his consciousness. That this wasn’t the kind of love that would go away one day. This was shaping up to become something else entirely. Something that would require him to make some tough decisions soon. But as he sank into the swirling depth of Alex’s eyes and got lost in the affection he found there, Miles chose not to dwell on that tonight. He’d do it soon. He’d figure it all out.

He had to.

Tomorrow.

Today was reserved for celebrating.

“I was bored during lunch when you were busy being a business wizard. I googled some stuff.” Miles' hand lay still on Alex’s hip. His thumb rubbed the fabric-covered curve of his frame. And his lips ghosted over his ear shell. “Searched for blowjob tricks.” He felt him shudder. “Learned quite a lot.”

The shudder became a full-grown shiver and Alex growled wretchedly. “That’s it. We’re leaving.” With spright and a crooked smile, Alex pushed away from the wall and out of Miles’ arms, only to grab his hand and yank on it. “Come, Mi. Now!”

The corners of Miles’ lips shot upward. “Turned on?”

“Fuck yes. Hurry!”

.

.

**Spoilers Ch. 23:**

#

“Babe…come with me, tonight. He’s my best friend. I want you to meet. Besides, he’s from Sheffield as well. You might actually like him…”

Alex relished the way in which Miles’ long, muscular arms kept him close. They kept him warm. And safe. And as his boyfriend sustained his efforts to convince him with his list of reasons why Alex should join Miles’ evening’s plans, Alex couldn’t find it in his heart to keep his ‘no’ up. “Alright.”

#

His fingers slipped between Alex’s. He squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him.

Alex wasn’t too happy about it, though. He tried to pull his hand away. “Stop it, alright?” Tilting his head sideways, he sighed and muttered, “M’not nervous, okay? M’fine. You’ve been fussy for the whole ride here!”

“You don’t look fine,” contended Miles.

“I am,” stated Alex.

A bit harsh, as Miles found. “Fine," he dismissed, giving up. "If you say so.”

The eye-roll he saw unfolding on Alex’s eyes got cut short by the opening door.

#


	23. Catching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long to update, but life was very busy lately. Anyway, thanks for reading and for your avid interest in this story. I love you all! ❤️  
> One more thing. I realized I've messed up the timeline. It's not…adding up, shall we say. For the sake of this story, let's just assume that July and August happened twice or something. 😜 Anyway, I put the date on top of this chapter and I'll try to keep it from slipping from my mind in the future.  
> That's it. I hope you enjoy the chapter! 😉

**Monday, October 31st, 2016**

**Alex**

“Baby, come on!” 

Miles raised his gaze, brows furrowed, as he rolled his head from left to right to relax his no doubt tense and sore muscles. The fact that he repeated the motion a few times while looking far from rested made it obvious to Alex that the whole thing was done in vain. Miles sat cross-legged amongst a pile of organized chaos, papers arranged in piles around him, a tablet perched on his lap, two phones to his left. A laptop was on the floor, charging. Behind him, a weighty tome was leaving an indentation in the pillow – _The Mordern Law Of Copyright_. 

At the sight of it all, Alex took pity on him. “You’ve been sitting here all day. Don’t you think it’s time for a break?” This side of Miles was rare, almost new. He’d seen him busy, of course. Meetings, emails, phone calls, him reading contracts, or complaining about his staff not doing what he wanted to be done. But dirty work, contract work, that was the stuff that lawyers were invented for, wasn’t it? “Don’t you have an entire floor of legal experts for this shit?” 

“I do, but I can’t tell ‘em to do what I want ‘em to do when I don’t know what it is that I want.” His eyes flickered for a second as if pondering his own statement, only to judge it harshly by sighing, audibly exasperated. “I’m tired. I’m not making much sense, am I? What time is it?” 

“Almost evening. Have you eaten anything?” Alex had just returned from a surprisingly stress-free day of mundane office work and he’d found his boyfriend sitting in the same spot, doing the same thing he’d been doing since this morning when Alex had left. 

“A sandwich. I’m eating later, remember? Jamie invited me over. Are you sure you don’t have time to join us?” 

Alex had time now. Stuff that had been important this morning wasn’t important anymore. His evening had freed up. But he still dragged his feet, eyes darting across the floor with no aim. “You sure they won’t mind if I come along?” 

Miles stared at him, confused. “Will my friend mind that my boyfriend is coming along? Are you being serious right now? I want you to meet him and he wants to meet you!” 

Alex shrugged. He was well aware that it sounded ridiculous. That didn’t change the fact that those were his concerns. “He’s the only one of your friends that knows about us.” He didn’t know why that mattered, but it did, for some reason. And it made him hesitant. It’d be their first time out as a couple without having to hide it. Alex knew what he could do in the privacy of their home. He’d figured that part of his relationship with Miles out a while ago. Miles was basically cool with everything. He was as laid back as one could be, always game for anything, and never bothered when Alex needed either space or the opposite. But in front of witnesses? Was he allowed to kiss him, then? Would Miles mind? Was he into that sort of public affection or was he as private about his feelings as he was about his life in general? Would it be fine to hold his hand and share stories of their lives or not? Did Jamie and his wife have an issue with the whole gay part of their relationship or were they okay with it? How would they judge him? Both Jamie and his wife were friends with Miles’ wife. What if they preferred them as a couple, despite the veracity of their relationship — or lack thereof?

Torn out of his apprehensions by Miles’ hand, Alex blinked. His wary gaze followed Miles’ palm as it ran up his hip, leaving a welcoming trail of warmth in its wake, heat that distracted him from his restless mind. The hand came to a pause against his waist and Miles’ fingers dug in, tugging, telling him to come closer. 

Alex did, smiling softly as he reached out to put his hand against Miles’ cheek. A light shadow of a beard covered his skin and the tiny stubbles tickled the pad of his thumb. “I know I’m being silly.” With his free hand, he moved the tablet out of the way. Bending one knee, carefully setting it to Miles’ right, then lifting the other and positioning it to his left, he wrapped both arms around him. Miles returned the hug without a moment’s hesitation, sinking his face into the nook of Alex’s shoulder. The latter immediately declared his appreciation. “Mmmhh, ’tis nice. Missed you all day.” 

“Me, too. Got this idea in my head. For something new.” 

Alex felt him shift and before long, Miles was leaving succulent kisses against his throat. “You do?” It was a question, but it came out as a moan. Heat pooled in his stomach and he fastened his hold on him as a response. “A new app?” 

“Maybe,” murmured Miles, unfocused. “I’ve been very busy these last few days, haven’t I?” 

A giggle from Alex. “Now that you mention it, yes. A little bit,” he agreed, dimples appearing on his features. “Feels like you’ve neglected me.” Teeth dragged over his lower lip. 

“Have I?” Miles bit into the pliant skin of his neck. The words fell against Alex’s ears as gentle hushes. “What a harsh crime. How would you like me to make up for it?” 

Alex could literally feel the slow-growing grin against the curve of his jaw. Miles slid his hands down to Alex’s ass. The grip was determined. Strong and urgent, making Alex’s bulging erection nudge with insistency against the hardness inside Miles’ pants. Alex slanted his hips, craving for some form of friction. “Slowly,” he told him on a drawn-out exhale, wondering if his breathing was as hot as Miles’ felt. Like getting hit by waves of boiling water. Suddenly, wearing a tie and a shirt became too restricting and he unwound one arm to remove those clothes. 

In a swift move, Miles had him rolled beneath him. The artfully constructed domes of paper fell apart into scattered disarray. Alex didn’t mind that, but the book poking his back was intolerable. “Your Copyright is hurting me!” 

“We can’t have that,” spoke Miles, laughing as he wedged a hand beneath Alex’s back to retrieve it, only to drop it off the bed. It landed on the floor with a thud. After that, his eager fingers took over the task of undressing Alex. Button after button got popped open and his mouth chased every bit of exposed skin it could reach. “Did I tell you today how bloody sexy I think you are?” To emphasize that, his eyes darted up, meeting Alex’s, wearing a look of pure desire. 

Alex growled in reply. “You give me eyes like that…” He twisted his hand into Miles’ hair, pulling his head up and his lips in for a ruthless kiss. “You better follow up with some good fucking!” 

By now, the shirt was entirely undone. Flicking the lapels to the side, Miles forsook Alex’s hungry lips to bring his mouth to his nipple, wetting it with a sultry lick of his tongue. Alex was mesmerized, staring in awe at the way Miles manipulated his body and made him squirm. When he blew scorching air on it, Alex arched up. Involuntary, and yet so very keen. It had never been this way before. Not with anybody else. As though Miles knew his body better than Alex did, himself. As if he’d figured out secrets that Alex didn’t know existed. Then again, remembering their seemingly endless list of lovemaking, and judging from the fervent and fierce reactions he’d drawn from Miles’ body, Alex liked to think he’d uncovered a hidden surprise or two. Or more. He certainly amassed knowledge of how to drive him wild and make him writhe with arousal. His Miles loved tender touches, little brushes of Alex’s fingertips, deep kisses, and when Alex placed a kiss to that one little spot right behind his earlobe, Miles turned into pudding. Then he’d sport that dazed smile, and his lids would flutter, and from deep inside his throat, a vibrating rumble would escape, the sound he imagined a giant wildcat would make when petted in just the right way. 

A firmness settled against his inner thigh. Alex opened his eyes, looked down. 

Huh? When had Miles stripped him of his pants? 

“Spread for me,” Miles demanded, shirtless, wearing nothing but briefs himself, lying on his stomach between Alex’s legs. “Or better yet, roll over.” 

Lazily pulling one leg up, taking his sweet time, Alex quirked his lips in a crooked smile. “Why?” Playful teasing notwithstanding, he did rotate around. Languidly. 

“I wanna do some dirty things to you,” confessed Miles, wearing quite a smirk of his own. The nifty sort. One that made the blood in Alex’s veins turn into a lighter fluid. All it took was a single touch and he’d begin to burn. Miles’ hand remained on Alex’s thigh, moving lightly over the sensitive skin as Alex moved into position. “Will you let me?” 

“By all means! Be my guest.” He split his legs as far as he could, offering Miles all the space he wanted. And Miles, he of the wicked tongue, wasted no time turning him into a gibberish-yelping, panting pool of molten fire. “Uuunghhh!” 

A long digit slipped deep into his passage as Alex felt Miles crawling up against his back. “Ready, babe?” 

“Yes!” 

The firm press against his entry was his sign. He raised himself off the mattress, trying to make it easier for both of them to align, to become one. Carefully, Miles pushed inside, steadying Alex’s hips with his hands, a touch that Alex felt as though the palms were imprinting themselves into his sides. If ever love would leave a marker on him, he wanted it to be Miles’. He couldn’t even imagine ever feeling this strongly about anybody else. 

They moved in complete sync, meeting each other’s thrusts, sharing each other’s needs. Sweat drenched ‘em both, and the air in the room, of that Alex was convinced, had fogged up. Everything was hazy. He heard Miles’ croaked whispers of lust. Those filthy, smutty lines that spurred him on and spiraled him higher and higher, directly towards a shattering release. With shaky hands, he covered Miles’, both fisting into the fabric of the pillow beneath him. Heat shot through every vein of his body as a shudder rushed up to his spin, engulfing him from top to bottom. Shaking, surging beneath Miles, whom he felt teetering over the edge against his back, Alex grunted out his name. A hoarse cry, scratchy and raw. Both bodies shivered in unison. And then, very slowly, they floated back to earth, tangled in each other’s arms. 

“I hope you know,” drawled Alex, speaking through the kind of satisfied grin that only good sex could leave behind, “that this merely begins to make up for it. I’m gonna want more of that!” 

Laughing airily, stripped of breath, and high on endorphins, Miles tucked himself further around Alex’s body. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” Lush lips left a lingering kiss at his nape. “Babe…come with me, tonight. He’s my best friend. I want you to meet. Besides, he’s from Sheffield as well. You might actually like him…” 

Alex relished the way in which Miles’ long, muscular arms kept him close. Inside them, he felt invincible. And safe. And as his boyfriend sustained his efforts to convince him with his list of reasons why Alex should join Miles’ evening’s plans, Alex couldn’t find it in his heart to say ‘no’ anymore. “Alright.” 

“Perfect!” His joy was instantaneous, and he let go. 

“Nu-ah!” Alex’s protest was immediate and severe. He veritably anchored him to him. “Five more minutes!” Miles’ body slackened. Alex spun around and nestled into his side. “Wanna enjoy my after-sex snuggle.” 

“In that case…” Miles warped them over and squeezed him tight, eyes twinkling. “Cuddle up.” 

*

**Miles**

Alex was nervous, but Miles didn’t understand why. It couldn’t be because he’d never met Jamie before. Alex wasn’t ever afraid or troubled at the prospect of meeting people. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was the kind of person that had a natural charm and could easily converse with everybody – if he wanted to. It had to be something else, except Miles couldn’t point a finger to it. Contrary to his partner, Miles was thrilled at the prospect of introducing him to his friends. It’d be the first time he’d be able to say the words, ‘this is my boyfriend’. And to say them while pointing at Alex made it that much better. 

The flickers of unease in Alex’s eyes were impossible to overlook and as Miles stood next to him, waiting for Jamie to open his front door, he gave him a gentle bump. “Jamie’s a cool guy. His wife is a funny one, too. She’s got a dry wit. You’ll like her. We used to hang out all the time, but they had a baby not too long ago and that makes it harder to find the time.” His fingers slipped between Alex’s. He squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him. 

Alex, evidently, wasn’t too happy about his efforts, though. He tried to pull his hand away. “Stop it, alright?” Tilting his head sideways, he sighed and muttered, “M’not nervous, okay? M’fine. You’ve been fussy the whole ride here!” 

“You don’t look fine,” contended Miles, explaining himself. 

“I am,” stated Alex. 

A bit harsh, as Miles found. “Fine," he dismissed, giving up. 

The eye-roll he saw unfolding on Alex’s eyes got cut short by the opening door. “Miles,” greeted Jamie’s wife Katie sunnily, immediately casting a warm welcome over them. “It’s been too long!” She gave him a quick hug. “And you must be Alex. He’s been gushing about you for weeks!” 

“Am not,” mumbled Miles, slightly embarrassed. He couldn’t help himself. Alex was his favorite topic. But there was no need to let Alex know, was there? 

Alex stiffened when Katie gave him a hug as well, but soon relaxed into it. “Nice to meet you!” 

“Where is he?” asked Miles.

“Inside,” said Katie, chuckling at Miles’ energy, no doubt. But Miles was too excited to care. She led them in. “Struggling with the wine cork.” 

Hands once again entwining, Miles dragged Alex along, towards the kitchen. His man was reluctant, awfully so, and he had to put some real muscle into it. But Alex would simply have to deal with it. “Jamie Cook, show your face.” Nothing, especially not Alex’s surly mood, would ruin his one chance of officially introducing him tonight. “Where are you?” 

“Busy,” droned from the distance. “You even know the word?” 

Alex stopped. Miles, tied to him by entwined hands, was forced to do so, too. He tossed him a confused look over his shoulder. “What?”

“Cook?” asked Alex. 

Miles shrugged. “Yep.” He saw the knitted brows on Alex’s face and his eagerness got sidetracked by his curiosity. “What?” 

“Jamie Cook, from Sheffield? That’s your best friend?” 

His entire attention now firmly fixed on Alex, Miles nodded. “You know him or something?” 

“I’ll be damned,” blurted Jamie, coming up behind Miles. “Alex Turner?” 

Miles’ stunned gaze jumped from Alex to Jamie, then back, as the two men gaped at each other in shock. “Somebody fill me in here.” 

A colossal grin spread on Alex’s face. “That’s my guitarist! Jamie. Told you about my band from once! That’s _the_ Jamie!” He gave the guy in question a wide-eyed look of wonder. “What’s it been, like over ten years?” 

“Longer, right?” Jamie seemed just as astounded. He gave Miles’ shoulder a hit. “That’s your Alex? You said he was a business consultant. Should have told me his last name!” 

Miles rolled one shoulder, needing a brief moment to snap out of this reunion, but he quickly recalled what he’d been dying to do for so long now. Bringing Alex’s limb arm up and kissing his hand, ignoring the rattled look he got for that, Miles’ lips sprung into a broad smile. “This,” he said, bursting with pride as he pointed his hand at Alex, “is my _boyfriend_. Alex Turner! He’s got his own company. He’s insanely successful and made big headlines not too long ago by landing a huge sale!” Bursting with joy, he squished a kiss against Alex’s cheek. “He speaks French, and Italian, and even a little German! He’s better at math than anybody I know.” ‘And he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on,’ he wanted to squeal but could save himself from that embarrassing extra just in time. 

“That many languages?” chuckled Jamie. 

“Tsk, Mi!” Alex looked away, uneasy. “He’s boasting.”

“Hell yes,” admitted Miles happily, pressing his lips to Alex’s face again. “Alex, this is Jamie, my best friend, and the best lawyer you’ll ever find! I really should have told his last name sooner, huh?”

Both of Miles’ arms were around Alex by the time Miles stopped bragging, and when he took note of the cherry red cheeks of his boyfriend, he figured he’d gone a bit overboard, but he’d only waited half his life for a chance to introduce the man of his heart to anybody! “Can’t believe you guys go way back!”

“Neither can I,” said Katie, joining the group and coming to a halt next to her husband, whom she gave a funny look. “That’s the guy you taught how to play the guitar?” 

Alex's eyes went wide. “You told her what? I taught you, Cook!” 

“Well,” murmured Jamie, eyes sheepishly darting from Katie’s quizzical expression and Alex’s mocking grin, scratching his head somewhat embarrassedly, “we learned from each other?” 

“You told me you fronted your band,” Miles ribbed his best mate. A snorted laugh escaped him. “Were you lying?” 

“We co-fronted,” Jamie shot back. 

“Yes,” jabbed Alex, sparkling with amusement. “You fronted the back and I fronted the front. This is insane,” he all but shot, snapping his eyes from Jamie to Miles. He slipped his arm around Miles’ waist, fully giving in to his hug, and peppered a fleeting kiss on Miles’ lips, which turned the smile on Miles’ face up yet another gigawatt. “All this time, you were friends? How’d you meet?” 

“He tried to drag me to court,” expounded Miles, beginning a long-winded tale of how he’d been sued by one of Jamie’s other mates years ago because the woman Miles had set that friend up with ended up cheating on him and that friend had demanded a refund plus extras. As he and Jamie got into it, splitting hairs over details and getting lost in memories, Miles was elated to see that all this nervousness that Alex suffered from earlier had suddenly vanished. He wasn’t moody anymore, nor fidgety or antsy. He was engaged and smiling from ear to ear, having a good time. But mostly, he was no longer trying to pull away from him. The opposite was the case. Alex had wholly glued himself to Miles’ side as he happily listened to the story. 

Alex and Jamie couldn’t stop catching up on old times and Miles couldn’t stop staring at Alex. He was a supernova taking place right in front of his eyes. These were the moments when he found Alex the most irresistible. When he was carefree and laughing and talking so fast that it was nearly impossible to catch every word. That’s when his eyes, which reigned supreme on any given day, became a masterpiece of interchanging colors. That’s when his lips stretched into the widest grins. That’s when Miles’ heart beat the fastest. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.” 

Miles startled. “Huh? I’m sorry, what was that, Katie?” Alex was across the room, admiring Jamie’s favorite guitar. 

A gentle laugh came from her. “I said, I’ve never seen you like this before. In love.” 

God, Miles hoped he wasn’t blushing too hard. Then again, why not? He was in love, was he not? In front of him, his empty plate sat, and he stared at it now. The corners of his mouth darted up as his left index finger began to circle the piece of bone china. “It’s…new? I guess.” He’d certainly never felt anything remotely like this before. “One day he just showed up in my life and feels like I’ve been falling ever since.” 

“I’ve been told. Had a long chat with Lena the other day.” 

At that, he groaned. His wife sure enjoyed gossiping about his life! “What else did she say?” 

“That you haven’t slept at home in weeks.” 

“I mean, we’re busy working during the day and the evenings and nights are all that we have.” 

“And all the weekends,” added Katie. Lips quirked. “Is it true you spent an entire weekend in a secluded cottage on the coast?” 

Miles was sure the smile on his face was all the answer she needed. “It was…” It had been something else. They’d talked endlessly. They’d laughed. Kissed. Made love. They’d dragged blankets out into the night and watched the stars while curled up in each other’s arms on a lonely beach. He’d never known perfection up until that point. And each time he thought it couldn’t get better, something inane or silly or downright boring happened, something he’d have never taken note of in the old days, yet something that completely knocked him out these days, and he’d be hit with the realization that there was infinitely more out there, a more that he slowly began to understand would only ever arrive in Alex’s presence. 

“I think he’s the one,” he whispered, admitting it out loud for the first time not just to her, or anybody else, but to himself, as well. The smile that had stuck to his face as the words had wafted from his lips slipped away fast. And as though a suffocating, weighted blanket had fallen from the sky, pushing down upon his body, he met Katie’s eyes with dreary ones. “I’m married.” 

“For show,” Katie reminded him. Her voice was low, to not draw Jamie’s and Alex’s attention, and Miles was grateful for that. “Lena knows it. There’s no love to consider if you make a choice. You know she’s seeing somebody in New York, right? She’s practically living with him, there.” 

He knew. She’d met him a year and a half ago. “He’s an actor. One of the really famous ones. If this comes out…” 

“Sometimes, things are worth the trouble. Can you really tell me with a straight face that you’re able to walk away from him? It’s a matter of time before you must decide. The sooner the better.” 

“I know.” He did know. He was weighing the possibilities all the time. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t imagine what it’d be like to hold his hand in public. To stroll into his office and say, ‘I’m here to see my boyfriend.’ To plan for a future beyond a limited scope. “It’s not that simple. We made a promise to each other, Lena and I. We’d look out for each other. I love Alex. So much. But…I love her, too. In different ways. She’s family.”

The baby monitor next to Katie revealed that the little one had woken up. “I’ll be right back,” she said 

Miles nodded in understanding. “I’ll head out for a smoke.” 

Strong arms snaked around his sides and Miles didn’t need to see the person to know who it was. He’d have known even without the sensuous scent of Alex’s fragrance which filled the air in subtle ways and turned the brisk autumn night into a warm, blissful moment. He’d have known without spotting the golden skin of Alex’s lower arms, exposed as they were for his boyfriend loved to roll up his sleeves. And he’d have known without the smooth skin of Alex’s cheek. He’d shaved before they’d left the house. Miles leaned back, sinking into Alex’s hold, and savoring the sensation. He knew simply because it was Alex and Miles always knew when Alex was there. 

Tender lips kissed the curve of Miles’ jaw. “I’m sorry. I was grumpy earlier. I snapped at you in the car, I think. Didn’t mean to.” Another kiss. “I was nervous.” 

“But why? These are just Jamie and Katie. They’d never do or say anything to make anyone feel uncomfortable.” 

The hold became more powerful. “I don’t know if you realize it, and…I’m probably weird for even thinking about it, but—” 

“But what?” Despite the tight grip that Alex had on him, Miles managed to spin around and face him. Alex’s arms remained around him as his eyes were torn by emotion, veritably shimmering with shyness. It made Miles’ heart hammer off-beat. “What is it?” 

The shiniest, coyest, most show-stopping smile exploded on Alex’s face. “This is the first time that I ever went out with a guy who I care about. Like, in public. You and I have gone out before. It’s always us pretending to be just friends. In New York, nobody knew us. Tonight…I mean…this is sort of like a double date or something and these are people that matter to you and I didn’t know if you minded if I was being all clingy, but then you called me your boyfriend and you sounded so happy—” 

Miles kissed him. He kissed Alex’s stumbling lips as though they were a cracked glass on the verge of splintering apart. He kissed him slowly, meticulously, as though he was the glue that tried to repair Alex’s fractures and make it all better. Miles reached up and cradled his face inside his palms. Thumbs coated across Alex’s cheeks. Pads traced the delicate spots beneath his closed eyes. When he let up, gasping for air, dazed, smiling at the sound of Alex’s little moans, he dapped the tip of his nose against that of his. Just to keep touching him. 

“I sat on the bed all day, trying to form a clear thought, trying to put into words what I want this next step for my company to be about,” confessed Miles, wildly diverted by the fluttering of Alex’s eyelids. His gaze swept from there, down, to his reddened lips, those sweet curves that always left a tingling in their wake. “But all I could focus on was you. I wanted you to come with me so badly. We’ve been together for nearly three months now, and this is the first time I had a chance to say the word ‘boyfriend’ out loud. If you’re clingy, then so am I. I don’t ever want you to let go of me.” 

It was Alex’s turn to reach for him, to bring his lips to Miles’, and Miles had never been good at resisting him. It was the one thing he hoped he’d never become good at. He drifted off into Alex’s caresses, struggling to get closer when they were already as close as they could get. “Babe…mmhh…” 

“Were you always gay?” interrupted Jamie with a snicker, sounding immensely entertained. 

Katie, her husband on the terrace, hit his chest. “Tsk!” 

“What? Just asking.” Jamie cocked his hip, hands in his pockets, not a trace of guilt on his face. Just a giddy smirk. “’Cause that would explain so much!” 

Miles, who’d tried to catch his breath by hiding his face in the arch of Alex’s shoulder, eventually glanced his friend’s way, raising an eyebrow. “Remind me to interrupt you next time you kiss your wife,” he joked. “Explains what?” 

Alex, snuggled into Miles’ arms, chuckled. “Yes, explains what?” 

Jamie laughed. “Were you crushing on Matt, our drummer, back then?” 

“Oh, you wish,” snorted Alex. “Next to me, he was the only one who could actually play his chosen instrument. I wasn’t ogling him. I was impressed.” 

“You never looked at me that way,” bemoaned Jamie. 

Miles joined Katie in her laughter. 

“No.” Alex let go of Miles’ waist only to curl one arm around his neck. Then grinned. “Should have played drums instead…” 

“Funny,” mocked Jamie, before breaking out into a wide smile. “Matt will freak out when I tell him you had a crush on him!” 

“Did not! Wait, you still talk to him?” 

“Yeah. He works in London, too. Builds custom drum kits. Made a huge name for himself. He should be in tomorrow. Wanna join me? We could drop by, pay him a visit? Any chance you can take off tomorrow for a bit?” 

“Definitely!” agreed Alex, excited. “What about you?” He turned to Miles. 

“I’m actually busy. Try to think of me when you go, though.” Lips met for a quick kiss. “Don’t want you to leave me for your former drummer.” 

“Never!” Alex smacked his shoulder with a giggle. “Unless…does he still play?”

Now it was Miles’ turn to smack Alex’s shoulder while laughing. “Hey!” 

.

.

**Chapter 24 Spoiler:**

#

“You’re making roast venison? At Alex’s place?”

Miles’ fingers curled around the phone in his hand, all but strangling it. So much for keeping secrets, he figured. “I take it, you talked to Penny, then?” With his free hand, he whipped the cream and the vanilla pudding together, turning it into Alex’s favorite dessert. “Is that the only reason you called, or did you actually want something?”

“Miles,” Pauline admonished. “Of course, I want something. Information. You have a perfectly neat and function kitchen; one I know for a fact is _not_ being renovated as we speak—”

“How’d you know for a fact?” He asked, interrupting her. All the while he kept stirring the yellow concoction. Between interrogating his mother and whipping up a storm, he switched hands. “Last time we met I came to your place.”

#

Leaning back, exhaling loudly, Miles gave up. “Happy three-months anniversary!” He might as well have said, _‘my condolences.’_

#


	24. Milestones

**Chapter 24**

**Tuesday, November 1 st, 2016.**

**Miles**

Three months. 

Miles kept coming back to those two words as he flurried around Alex’s kitchen that day, marveling over that milestone. It was jaw-dropping, a unique sort of accomplishment. He’d never been with anybody for that long an amount of time, except, of course his wife. But this, his time with Alex, was a different thing. A real relationship, a real connection, a real love story. It was something he’d only had with him. And he had it for three whole months, now. No end in sight.

That deserved some celebration.

After reuniting with his former bandmate last night, Alex had left this morning to take a trip with Jamie, catching up on his teenage years, visiting their former drummer. It couldn’t have possibly come at a better time for it offered Miles the opportunity to prepare a sprawling dinner. It was Tuesday. He’d already vacuumed the entire apartment, had changed the sheets, tidied up the guest room by placing all his shoes neatly into the newly acquired shoe rack, and now he pondered what would make a better feast – roast venison or salmon. The salmon recipe looked prettier on the accompanying image, but he had a hunch that Alex would prefer the anything-but-fish option. Then again, venison? Miles chewed on his lip in anguish. He’d never made it before. And the recipe was rather complicated. 

Well, only one way to find out. He blew out a breath, rolled up his sleeves, and flexed his muscles. “Alright…where to start?”

The doorbell rang. 

“Not there,” he muttered. His head fell. The lure to ignore it ran rampant, but he was waiting for another pile of legal books he’d freshly ordered off Amazon. Books that were ridiculously overpriced, as he found, but needed anyway. If he went to his legal department to get ‘em there, his armada of lawyers would want to know what he’d planned and, so far, all he’d be able to give was a vague ‘something’. 

Paying a fortune for books he hardly understood in the first place was less of a hassle. “Comin’.” 

It rang again.

His eyes did a whole one-eighty. “Calm the fuck down, alright?!” If this was that asshole of a FedEx guy again, that bloody lunatic who’d dropped a package of fine, vintage Crystal Wine glasses which he’d bought on eBay after a bitter and hard-fought bidding war, then that one was in for a world of trouble! Miles hauled the door open wide. And rapidly regretted it. “Er…Misses Turner?” Recoiling from the entrance, he inadvertently gave her the room she needed to enter.

“Miles?”

“Uh, I’m sorry! I…er…Alex isn’t—”

She didn’t wait for an invitation. Marching right past him, Penny Turner aimed straight for the kitchen. “I am so glad that it’s you and not my son! I’m in a bit of a hurry. Got a dinner party tonight and Alex still has my gratin dish. From last week, when he visited and snuck out with the dish and half a lasagna still inside of it. Do you know where he put it? It’s big, oval, and orange, and…” Her voice dropped a notch, into doomed territory. “It’s about to be used,” Penny observed, troubled, eyes stuck on the set-up in front of her. 

Miles, hot on her heels, walked up to the kitchen counter where he’d arranged all the pots and utensils into a neat order. Meeting her eyes, he winced inwardly. Oh, she’d get it all wrong! Of that he was sure. Though, wrong was the false term. She’d get it right, which was worse. _‘Come on, brain,’_ he begged, mentally going through a list of plausible explanations, _‘gimme something to work with!’_

“I’m…er…using Alex’s kitchen to cook something. Uh, my apartment…renovated! The kitchen is being renovated.”

She glanced up from the gratin dish and frowned. His justification didn’t appear to matter to her all that much. Her lips, however, were pulled into a smile. Which irked him. Did she know something? Was he that bad of a liar? “Okay. Cooking for yourself?”

“Testing a recipe…for somebody. Guests…I think?”

“You think?”

“I am? I am, I mean.” Dear Lord, what the hell was he doing?! If he rambled on, she’d call a psychiatrist. Or worse, his mother.

“You’re trying to do _something_ ; I can see that.” She plucked the gloves off her fingers. “What’s it you’re cooking?”

_Hallelujah_!

A normal question. Was that sweat running down his back? He shifted awkwardly. Offset. “Roast venison.” And since the world’s most complicated recipe was awaiting his entire, undivided attention, he was short on time and therefore severely distressed by the prospect of losing the gratin dish. “You need it back? The thing?” Fingers curled around the rim, subconsciously claiming it. Getting proprietary over a damned dish. Alex would laugh his ass off if he saw.

“I do,” she confirmed, sight set on the item Miles claimed. Eyebrows askew, she bit her lip. “I had a gratin planned. It is rather unfortunate, is it not?” They were eying the thing as if stalking a wounded animal, ready to pounce. “Where’s Alex?”

“Out. For a while.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Was it surprise? Confusion? Unhappiness? Miles wanted to know. He wouldn’t blame her for either. “I can call him if—”

“No, no, no, no, no,” she waved off, shaking her head, sparking his curiosity to life. “Let’s _absolutely_ not do that!” The small smile on her face grew into something impish, almost dangerous. “Thank God he isn’t here! Lucky me. He’d throw one of his fits if he found out I dropped by. Please don’t tell him! Gave me a stern lecture last time I did!” Her mouth twisted into a slight sneer. “About how I had to respect that he had a private life and all that nonsense. One would think the boy hit puberty for a second time.” At the word ‘puberty’ her eyes wandered off. “Oh, I still remember those days, when he was fifteen and moping and…never mind him. So!” She rubbed her palms together. “How do we figure this out? You got a second gratin dish that you could use?”

Miles squinted, trying to recall if he’d seen one. “I don’t know.” He was used to cooking in Alex’s kitchen, but that usually restricted itself to a pan and a few pots. The pan, he’d brought over from home. “I haven’t spotted one in any of his cupboards. I don’t think he does.” Considering he had to haul in a whole drawer’s worth of kitchen utensils, he’d been astonished to find that awesome gratin dish in the first place. He should have known. “It’s yours,” he conceded at last, with a desolate shrug. “Take it.”

“But look at this,” Penny remarked, relenting as well, casting a look around the kitchen. “You got it all arranged already. I’m impressed by your organization, by the way. Venison isn’t easy to prepare. Judging by this, though? I’m confident it’ll be good.”

“You do?” It stunned him. He didn’t share her trust in his abilities. “Don’t know about that.” 

“Where’s that swagger of yours my dear boy keeps fawning about? Head up, back straight, always pay attention to the temperature, and don’t you venture off the recipe. It’s cooking. That requires discipline.”

Miles met her eyes with deep appreciation. “Thanks, Misses Turner.”

“Penny,” said Penny, offering a kind smile that immediately lessened Miles’ apprehension. “Tell you what, I’ll just get a new one. I’ll come by plenty of shops on my route home.”

Now, he felt terrible. “You shouldn’t have to get a new one because of me. I can get one. Alex will need one anyway. If he wants to cook—” The words stopped there as his forehead furrowed at the idea of it.

“Alex? Cooking?” Penny giggled. “He wouldn’t know where to start. Miles, it’s fine. Do get going. I’ll head back, now. Good luck. I’ll call tomorrow and ask how it went. I’m a bit nosy and not above admitting it. And remember…” She leaned toward him conspiringly. “This is our little secret. Don’t tell anybody.”

“I promise.”

“You’re making roast venison? At Alex’s place?”

Miles’ fingers curled around the phone in his hand, all but strangling it. So much for keeping secrets, he figured. “I take it, you talked to Penny, then?” With his free hand, he whipped the cream and the vanilla pudding together, turning it into Alex’s favorite dessert. “Is that the only reason you called, or did you actually want something?”

“Miles,” Pauline admonished, sounding offended. “Of course, I want something. Information,” she added, killing the flicker of regret Miles might have felt for assuming the worst right from the start. “You have a perfectly neat and function kitchen; one I know for a fact is _not_ being renovated as we speak—”

“How’d you know for a fact?” He asked, interrupting her. All the while he kept stirring the yellow concoction. Between interrogating his mother and whipping up a storm, he switched hands. Cooking was bloody tough! “Last time we met I came to your place.”

“Uh, well,” she stuttered, doing a fine job of making the blood rush faster through Miles’ veins, “I quickly dropped by your place earlier. You weren’t home.”

“I presume you went _after_ Penny called. Which meant you _knew_ I wasn’t home. You did, of course, turn around and head back, right? Because using your spare key to spy on your only son and his kitchen, which may or may not be getting renovated at the moment, is a deeply disturbing thing to do, right? _Mommy_?”

Pauline cleared her throat. “I might have had to use your bathroom?”

“Mother!”

“Oh, would you stop it? Don’t act all disappointed.”

“I _am_ disappointed. You’re not supposed to sneak into my apartment when I’m not at home. We had this discussion. Several times,” he added for emphasis. Damnit, his arm was getting tired from stirring! “What if Lena was at home? It isn’t just my home. It’s hers as well. And the only reason you have a key is to use it in case of emergencies.”

“I had to pee,” she huffed.

Miles snorted. “You shouldn’t have dropped by in the first place!”

“Why did you lie to Penny?”

“Mother, I love you. But you’re not entitled to know everything, alright?”

“Why—”

“No.”

“But—”

“No!”

“Oh, fine,” puffed Pauline. He heard the grunt all the way over the phone. “For what it’s worth, at least I know what I’ll gift Alex for Christmas,” she retorted crossly. “A gratin dish.”

Miles shook his head as he dropped the stirring, to inspect the final result. “He’ll rejoice,” he informed his mother dryly. The cream-pudding mix looked positively delicious. And one sly swipe with his finger to taste it brought a wide smile to his face. “Mmhhh.”

“Are you snacking on sugar?”

He jerked upright. “Do you have spy cameras up or something?!” It was ridiculous. Laughable. Outrageous. Nonetheless, he quickly checked over his shoulder.

“I don’t need cameras. I’ve been your mother for thirty years. I can hear it in your voice when you’re eating sugar. Why won’t you tell me why you’re cooking at Alex’s place?”

“I’m cooking here because he generously offered to let me use his kitchen.” It was as good and as vague of a little white lie he could come up with in this short time. “And if there’s anything more that you need to know or that I want you to know, you’ll know. And you find out from _me_ , are we clear?”

Pauline resigned. “Yes, sweetheart. Save me a piece of the venison, will you?”

“Will do, mom. Love you. Tell dad I love him, too. I’ll drop by next weekend and we can catch up.”

“Alright. Love you, too. Say ‘hi’ to Alex from me, will you?”

“Bye.” He hung up, dropped his head, and took a deep breath. In and out. In and out. Slow and steady.

“You okay?”

Only to jump in shock. “What the— Alex, no!” Miles grabbed the dish towel from the rack and flung it in lightning speed over the pot with the pudding. To his great relief, the venison was securely hidden in the oven. The pots on the stove…damnit, those couldn’t be helped!

Alex stepped closer as he shrugged out of his jacket, carelessly flinging it over a chair. “Are you making dinner? I thought you were busy all day.”

“I was busy. Am busy.” This day! It seemed all he did today was make up lies and excuses! Between all that nonsense of fielding mothers and burning stuff, he’d scarcely gotten around to setting the table and choosing the perfect wine. “Out, out, out!”

Laughter from Alex. “What?”

“I mean it!” Rushed steps carried him over and he inclined for a quick kiss, only to grab his lover’s shoulders and spin him around. “Bedroom. Guest room. Office. Bathroom. _Anywhere_ but here.” Another kiss. This one, he placed against his cheek. “I need thirty more minutes. Go freshen up or something.”

“Freshen up?” The laughter got louder. “Shall I powder my nose and reapply lipstick?”

“If it takes thirty minutes, by all means, go do it!”

“What’s the big deal?” Alex struggled to get out of Miles’ grip, as always making things unnecessary complicated. “Why can’t I stay and watch?”

“I don’t want you to! Not now! Go and get out. Please.”

“Mi—”

Time was running out and Miles’ impatience got the better of him. He went for the kill. “Do you love me?”

Alex flung around, gaping. “You’re that serious?”

“I am.”

Deflated, he headed for the bedroom. “It smells insane. Half an hour! Can’t wait longer than that. One more thing.” Miles’ eyes flew open wide when Alex roped his head in for a filthy, tongue-filled kiss, only to let go with a plop and a smirk. “You taste like sugar. Cook faster.”

Miles slapped his ass, grinned happily at the yelp he triggered, then hurried back to his battlefield.

Alex licked the last remnants of flavor off his index finger. Lips were wide, curved into a blissful and content smile. His eyes were bright and full of delight, reflecting the shimmering lights of the candles that were lit. Miles leaned over to brush a stray curl of hair from his forehead.

“This,” gushed Alex, the drawled words a caress by themselves, “was fucking phenomenal! Jesus, I could bathe in that pudding!”

“There’s a naughty fantasy right there,” chuckled Miles, already busy imagining it.

Leaning into the palm, Alex curled his fingers around Miles’. “What’s all this about, though? You’ve been working all day on this? Could have enjoyed the day with Jamie, Matt, and me. You’ll love Matt once you meet him. He’s just like he used to be. Felt like I’d travelled back in time. Wish you’d have been there.”

“I know. ‘nother time. I wanted to do something nice for you, ‘tis all.”

“But why?”

He’d forgotten? Miles didn’t blame him for it. He, himself, had never been one to remember any of the important dates, not even the big ones. More than once, he’d forgotten his own wedding anniversary. It wasn’t like him to make a big fuss over something as trite as the three-month celebration of being with somebody. Only, being with Alex, it felt like something more. Something worthy of being remembered.

Miles felt his own nerves flaring up he pondered the next move. God, how pathetic it was! He’d gotten his boyfriend a gift. Why was he so jittery, all of sudden? Where was all that confidence he’d used to pride himself with? Where was his bluster? His cocky flair? Fingers darted towards the chair next to him, where he’d placed the box. He grabbed it, raised it, then placed it onto the table, in front of Alex. “For you.”

Alex’s face was the definition of utmost surprise. “Huh?”

“Don’t laugh, alright?” He lowered his eyes, embarrassed at his emotional turmoil. What had seemed like a good idea last week, when he’d gotten the gift, now struck him as an act of foolishness that he tried to make up for before Alex so much as unwrapped the bloody box. His mind raced, filling his head with unwelcome feelings. What if Alex started laughing? His voice became small. “If you don’t like it, we’ll return it. Get you a sweater or something. Anything. I just…anyway, it’s for you.”

“Sweater…” Alex muttered, sidetracked by opening his gift. “What…why?” He plucked the lid off the box and Miles watched his jaw drop. “Miles! Are you fucking insane?”

“It’s ridiculous, right?” Oh, he should have known. It was too much. Too bizarre. They were grown-ups. He shifted clumsily in his seat. This wasn’t the kind of shit people their age did anymore an—

“This is…” Struggling to make sense of it, Alex pulled the item out of the velvet box it came in.

“I remembered you looking at it the other day and – like I said, we can return it and—”

“Get me a sweater?” Miles had yet to meet his eyes, but he heard the snicker in Alex’s tone. “This thing is worth a truckload of sweaters!”

“It’s just a wristwatch,” mumbled Miles, his tone faint. It was too big a gift. Alex’s reaction confirmed it. Miles downplayed it. “Nothing special.”

“Nothing speci— Are you nuts?”

What was he supposed to do, now? Apologize? He shrugged. “Gets worse. Had it engraved.”

Alex turned the watch around. There, on the back of the face, in finely formed letters and numbers, was a date. August 9th, 2016. Below sat three words, engraved in platinum. _I love you._

Silence filled the room. The heavy, meaningful silence. The kind he didn’t mind any other day. The kind he could easily ignore. The kind that cut into his raw nerves right now. A silence that was too loud for Miles’ torn mind. A silence that needed to disappear. “Stupid, right?”

A snort.

Of all things, a snort.

Now, Miles looked up, slightly hurt. He’d opened his heart. He’d done something he’d never done before. He’d gone beyond cool, and he’d made a fool of himself, but he’d done it out of love. The snort was insulting. But he’d expected it.

It was the snotty smirk on Alex’s lips, which was topped off by a quirked pair of brows that arched skyward as if to silently agree with Miles’ assessment –of it all being stupid – that completely undid him.

Leaning back, exhaling loudly, Miles gave up. “Happy three-months anniversary!” He might as well have said, _‘my condolences.’_ “I suck at inscriptions, by the way. So, I picked the obvious. I really can’t deny that I love you, can I? I mean, why else would I do something so crazy.” The fact that this night had ventured far from what he’d imagined it to be had his insecurity rearing its ugly head and his tone got snarky. “I know it’s cheesy and all that shit, but…damnit, you make me really happy and just wanted you know that. We’ve been together for three months now an—”

“Two things,” Alex cut in as he got up. “First, the important thing.” He startled Miles into stunned confusion when he straddled his lap while wrapping his arms around him, only to kiss him with the force of an ocean liner running at full speed. What was left of Miles’ abilities to think, scrambled though his thoughts were, Alex stole straight from his lips. Only to detach with a groan. “Kiss me back, will you?”

“But—” There was the tacky gift and the ill-advised idea of having a ball for some clichéd jubilee. Making out was as far from his mind as it could be!

Evidently not caring for arguments, Alex went for another kiss, this one no less eager, yet legions lustier. Miles, weak that he was, surrendered in less than half a heartbeat. Arms enveloped around Alex’s middle and he held on tight. For what it was worth, kissing was better than being laughed at!

His boyfriend, too soon, let up. “Second,” continued Alex, slyly licking his lips, distracting Miles further from his little breakdown, “I fucking love you, too. Stop berating yourself, will you? It’s neither cheesy, nor corny, nor whatever else your twisted mind is turning _your own idea_ into!” He gave him another peck on the mouth. “Don’t you dare turn my watch into a sweater. I can’t believe what you did. This thing cost a fortune, Mi. And you had it engraved? That’s the most incredible gift I’ve ever gotten in my life!” One more kiss. Then, his cheeks dimpled. “Now, if only you’d gotten the date right…”

It was Miles’ turn to ask, “What?”

Hands remained loose around Miles’ neck. Alex flashed him the kind of smug grin Miles wished he’d be capable off now. “We got together Monday the 8th. And our three-month anniversary is _next_ week.” Where Miles had morphed into a shy mess, uncomfortable by the sheer size of his own feelings for him, Alex veritably shined with self-confidence. “I remember. Wanna know why? Because you make me bloody happy as well. And I fucking love you for that!”

“You do?” Miles, a bit confounded, slowly regained his footing in this conversation. His hands, resting on Alex’s waist, became less of a limb attachment to his body and more of an active player. Fingers dug into his sides, taking possession of the man on his lap, the man of his heart.

“I do,” professed Alex, with a severity and a conviction that had Miles’ toes curling inside his shoes. He lowered his head, nearing, angling for a kiss.

However, now that his worries had turned to ash under Alex’s smoldering gaze, Miles twisted his head away. Space had cleared up in his head. New thoughts moved in. “Hold on, our anniversary is _this_ week. It’s today!”

Stopping mid-move, Alex frowned. “Uh…no?”

“Er, yes!”

“No!” Alex sat up straight, kiss forgotten. “Not tonight.”

“What do you mean, not tonight? I know how to count! Of course, it’s tonight! It’s Tuesday, November 1st! Three months, or twelve weeks ago – depending on how you want to count – in New York, we got together!”

“No,” stated Alex with vehemence, eyes set on Miles. “Like I said, we got together on Monday, August 8th, _almost_ but _not yet_ three months ago. I took the coming Monday off. I got a whole thing planned for that day! Because on Monday, November 7th, we’ll be together for, _guess what_ , three months!”

Miles shook his head. “We didn’t get together on Monday, it was Tuesday.”

“I think I remember it a little differently!”

“Then you remember it wrong,” blustered Miles, feeling a need to point out why that was the case. “We had sex Monday night. We took our time. We were in bed. But it was already _after_ midnight that you suggested I should be your boyfriend.” He caught Alex’s stare dead on, confident in his recollection. “And that Tuesday was the 9th. You add 12 weeks and you get to today.” He nodded once. Curtly. To underscore his logical reasoning.

“You don’t count the weeks,” Alex objected, not releasing Miles’ eyes, instead intensifying his glare. “You count the months. And it was fairly obvious from the moment we stepped out of the elevator in New York where this thing between us was headed.” He was gesticulating with his hands, as if painting a picture of past events. “We kissed on Monday. In the corridor. Hence, we got together on Monday. Which is the reason I planned on taking you out on Monday. _Next week_.”

“So, you’re saying we’re only together for twelve weeks, but not three months?” Miles’ shoulders fell. “Guess I came early.”

Chortled laughter from Alex. “That’s a first.” His arms returned around Miles’ neck. “Can I keep my watch anyway?” Foreheads touched. “I really love it.”

“It’s yours forever,” whispered Miles, locking his arms around his boyfriend and bringing his whole upper body against his own. “Sorry for being weird tonight.” His voice remained a hushed, breathy tone. “You’re my first boyfriend. I should have already done and experienced all of this. Like, I’m not supposed to get giddy and silly at the thought of a three-months anniversary, but I do. I mean…” He laughed at himself, finally able to do so. The tension inside of him began to slide away. “I’m so bloody new at this, I don’t even know how to count anniversaries. I’m saying this to warn you, ‘cause Christmas is coming up, soon. And there’s a real chance I’ll make an idiot of myself by getting you a bloody insane number of gifts and snuggling so much with you that you might actually consider breaking up with me just to ensure your own survival!”

A low giggle slipped from Alex’s throat, vibrating against Miles’ neck as he buried his head into the curve of his shoulder. “Stop worrying so much. I love you because you’re exactly who you are. Silly and all that. And if you need any more proof of that, here it is: Next week, on Monday, I plan on taking you to Tower Bridge to put one of those love locks up. You know…that padlock that all the kids are hanging up these days? Got one engraved for us.” Coyly, Alex raised his shoulder.

“With Monday’s date?” asked Miles, chuckling, masking the fact that his heart was hammering wildly, happily, in his chest. Alex did corny things, too? “I love you.”

“Who says we can’t celebrate more than once, right?” Lips kissed the spot on his neck where Miles was tingly and sensitive, though, admittedly, he was tingly and sensitive everywhere, and he moaned, unashamed, reveling in his moment of pure bliss. Alex’s fingers slipped into Miles’ shirt. “Gonna admit something else. When you wear a button-down shirt, I get the dirtiest ideas in my head. Wanna go to bed?”

“To do sexy stuff? I do.”

“Miles?”

“Hmm?”

“Are those my mother’s gloves on the kitchen counter?”

His wicked mind short-stopped, rerouted, and quickly pondered where the lines of this dilemma were drawn. Was he allowed to admit to Penny’s visit if Alex already knew she’d dropped by? In lieu of an answer, he skirted the question. “If she or my mother ask, my kitchen is getting renovated and I used yours to try out a recipe for guests.”

“Okay?”

“I’m worried they’re suspecting something.” Miles got up to his feet. Alex was holding on to him like the world’s heaviest koala bear, legs and arms drawn firmly around him. “You want me to carry you,” presumed Miles, amused.

“If you could, yes.”

“I think I can,” indulged Miles. Hands on Alex’s butt, he hoisted him higher, joined him in his laughter, and made his way for the bedroom. “What will we do about ‘em? Should we sit them down and…I don’t know. Explain?”

“Us? To them?” The thought made Alex shake his head deftly. “That would be plain stupid. They’d plan our wedding, Miles. They’d put up our names on adoption lists. And they’d find us a house or something. We’d lose our private life! Just ignore it. Let them speculate.”

Miles was doubtful. “You sure?”

“Positive. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?” He snorted as he pondered that idea. “They’ll forget about us eventually. And we should forget about them. Especially right now.”

Miles gasped when Alex’s teeth sank into his earlobe.

“All you have to do is focus on me,” purred Alex breathily. “Me and my desire to show you in the kinkiest of ways how much I love you.”

Oh, that he could easily focus on. With a beaming smile, he dropped him onto the bed. “Go for it…”

.

.

**Chapter 25 Spoiler:**

#

“It’s a Christmas outfit,” Miles explained, twirling for her.

“You look like a reindeer.” Once she got a full view of the back, an involuntary chuckle escaped her. “Oh, it’s got a bushy tail!”

“He’s Rudolph. He’s got the blinking red nose to match!” announced Alex, his voice booming from the living room, into which Penny was stepping. “Hi, mom.”

“Alex,” she greeted, only to freeze inside the doorway. To blink. Then again. The scene…the sight…the _all_ of it!

#

“Here, mom.” 

“Huh?” She startled, then saw Alex holding up a mug in front of her. On a plate. With a cookie. An odd cookie. She took it from him, to inspect. “Did you…bake these? Yourself?” She wished she wouldn’t sound so shocked.

Alex slipped back onto the couch and as she carefully dug her teeth into the sugar-coated cookie, dazzled by the fact that it tasted delicious, she could have sworn she just saw Alex wink at Miles. 

#


	25. Mom Finds Out

**December**

**Penny Turner**

“I have to know for sure, Pauline.” Penny tipped back the damp hat on her head as she stepped into the lobby of Alex’s apartment building. Snow was falling in thick flakes and made walking a hard task. She’d have taken the car but driving in the snow was too much of a hassle. All cabs had been busy and asking her husband for a lift was simply not an option. As much as she loved her husband, having him with her would have only ended up with him getting in the way of her mission. And that, she couldn’t allow. Adjusting the purse on her shoulder, she carried on toward the elevator with determined steps while turning her attention back to the phone call. Her voice was stern and she knew she sounded cross. It couldn’t be helped, however. It was her frustration getting the better of her. If anyone understood though, it was her friend and fellow sufferer. “I stopped by the office and there was a guy I’ve never met before and he told me that my son took the day off. I asked if he was serious and that man told me that Alex often took days off. Which isn’t true. He never does that! I have a hunch that he’s run into trouble. That boy…he’s made it his mission to keep me out of his life these days. I want to know why!” 

“You think I like that my Miles is keeping secrets?” Yes, realized Penny, listening to her friend. She perfectly understood. “My little baby hasn’t slept in his apartment for weeks. I’ve gone as far as rearranging his records just to see if he’d notice. Not a bloody word he’s lost to me about it.” A grim and concerned noise escaped Pauline. “What if he moved into a new place without telling me? He left all of his furniture behind. All of his books and records and so on. What if he’s sleeping alone each night, on a cod? Or worse, what if he’s living in one of those dreary, stale hotel rooms? Those are a breeding place for loneliness and depression!”

Penny more than shared her sentiment. “Do you honestly believe that our boys are…what’s it you called it?” As her finger sank down on the button to Alex’s floor, she scrunched her nose up trying to remember the term Pauline had used. “Concealing the truth from us?” The thought undid her. She hated not knowing everything that took place in her son’s life.

“I didn’t say it like that,” Pauline pointed out, making an effort to be clear and concise with her statements. “I said they are up to something. You should have seen the way those two acted when they stayed for my birthday. Pen, they went out all night and crashed in some hotel room. Clothes were littered everywhere. That’s not how we raised our boys, is it? What if they run with bad company? What if my Miles developed a drinking habit and Alex is covering for him? What if all that business work they’re doing is causing our boys problems? Do you know what bad things can happen on this internet-whatever? Besides, you told me they were acting strange whenever you went over.”

Strange, yes. Although, Penny couldn’t quite define the way in which they were acting in such a manner. Something was off, each time she came to see her son. Alex used to be easy-going and unconcerned. Nowadays, he was stiff. Constantly aware of his surroundings. Always weary of her reactions. He seemed nervous. If only she could figure out why that was the case! She’d remarked about the immaculate state of his apartment and he’d stumbled over nonsensical explanations. If the boy had hired a maid, why not say so? But what if it wasn’t a maid? What if…oh, those nagging questions! 

On more than one occasion, Miles had been over. At Alex’s apartment. Doing nothing. Just…being there. Sure, they were friends. But all of it was beginning to point in a certain direction. “I think they are living together. Alex has a guest room and for as long as he’s living in that place, he’d let me use it for a quick nap if I needed one. He made me nap on the couch the other day. The couch, Pauline!” She hadn’t even been tired. She’d merely wanted an excuse to see the bloody room. After that, she’d been forced to rest and take a quick slumber, simply to avoid getting caught in a lie! “What if they moved in together to save money? Didn’t you say that Miles got rid of that expensive couch in his office? And I saw Alex hauling a full bag of clothes to the goodwill center. Pauline, what if we have it all wrong and they sold the couch? And the clothes?”

“I know! I mean, Miles got us the fancy house, but my darling boy must know that he can sell it if he wants to! My husband and I really don't care for the place at any rate. It is awfully big and requires so much cleaning! I feel bad for the poor maid who has to vacuum the floors all the time.” Another dreadful sound from her. “As much as I want answers, aren’t you risking an argument with your son? Didn’t Alex tell you not to drop by unannounced?”

Yeah, that! What nonsense that was! She shook her head at it, on the verge of getting upset. Secrecy, too, had never happened before. “It has to be part of all this…this rubbish that’s been going on. I’ve always been welcome. But rest assured,” she let her friend know in no uncertain terms. “I’m prepared. A relative just got admitted into the hospital for a heart attack—”

“Oh Penny, that’s awful!”

“Yes, yes. Awful.” Thank God she was alone in the elevator and Pauline couldn’t see her rolling her eyes. “It’s the perfect excuse to drop by.”

“Penny!” 

“Oh, would you stop? She’s a horrible person. And she had it coming. We all warned her that a bit of exercise wouldn’t kill her. Quite the opposite!” The elevator arrived at her desired floor. “I’m here. Gotta go. Call you later.”

“It’s bad weather. Want me to pick you up?”

“Aren’t you at _The Palace_?” She and Pauline had gotten to calling the mansion _The Palace_. “That’s an hour away!”

“Yes, but you’ll be there for a bit, won’t you?”

“It’s lovely of you to offer, but I’ll be fine. I’ll have a cab drive me home. Or better yet, I’ll have Alex drive me home. In case he kicks me out, I can pressure him into spending time with me. Call you later.” She hung up. Removing the hat, patting the molten dews of snow off of it, she tugged it underneath her arm and headed for Alex’s door, knocking hard. Then she pressed her ear to it. 

Noises. 

Voices.

Miles must be over. Perfect. If Alex got cagey again, she could try her luck with him. 

Footsteps.

She straightened up, raised her chin, and put on a warm smile. 

The door opened. 

And Penny’s jaw dropped. “What in the name of the Lord are you wearing?”

Miles, swallowing hard, clearly unprepared to find her on this side of the door, looked down at himself. “A onesie?” 

“A what now?”

“Onesie?” Tried Miles again. “Er, jumpsuit? One-piece-joggers?”

“A romper?” 

Meeting her eyes, shrugging, he offered a cheeky smile. His hand went up to his head to pull off a pair of antlers. Her eyes were quizzically following his every move as he removed those laughable things. While at it, he made room for her. “It’s a Christmas outfit,” he explained, twirling for her.

“You look like a reindeer.” Once she got a full view of the back, an involuntary chuckle escaped her. “Oh, it’s got a bushy tail!”

“He’s Rudolph. He’s got the blinking red nose to match!” announced Alex, his voice booming from the living room, into which Penny was stepping. “Hi, mom.”

“Alex,” she greeted, only to freeze inside the doorway. To blink. Then again. The scene…the sight…the _all_ of it! Sprawled out on the couch, half tangled into a knitted, dark green blanket that was adorned with furry, white snowballs, lay her son. On his stomach. Wearing joggers, looking like he’d just woken up from sleep, sporting a lazy grin, and making no effort to sit up, he clutched a bright red mug whilst licking cream off his upper lip. 

Directly in front of him, on the table, sat a second red mug. It had to be Miles’, but she couldn’t spot a spare inch of space where Miles might have sat since Alex took up all of the couch. Unless he’d sat on the floor. It was one of many conundrums that befuddled her mind, yet it was far from the most striking one. 

No. 

That top position was reserved for the beyond tall Christmas tree that stood in front of the large, floor-length window, blocking out most of the view. Its branches shielded half of Alex’s unfathomably large flat-screen tv and that, distantly, amazed her considering his ridiculous affection for that piece of technology. 

The tree was a sight to behold. It was too big, despite Alex’s above-average high ceilings, and the tree topper aligned horizontally with it. Covered from top to bottom with a wide variety of blinking lights in all sizes and colors, an innumerable amount of mismatched balls, hangers, candy cones, bows, glitter, and whatnot, it looked like a Christmas store had exploded and reassembled on the tree as decoration – though, decoration was a term too kind for this mess. “It’s…” Penny struggled for a fitting description. “Bright?”

“It’s perfect,” gushed Miles from behind her, full of enthusiasm. He’d taken up a seat on the other sofa, by now holding what she’d already assumed had been his mug. His eyes were sparkling at the sight of the tree. That, or the tree lights reflected in his eyes.

Alex, on his back, still underneath the blanket, chuckled. “It’s a little big, I admit.”

“Half of that,” remarked Penny, oddly enthralled by the monstrosity, “would be ‘a little big’. This one is… I don’t even have a word that would fit it!” At least no positive word. She wasn’t against large, heavily decorated trees on principle, but a modicum of cohesiveness wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? Would it have been so hard to settle for a single color? Did it really have to be the entire rainbow? Penny took a deep breath as she searched for any redeeming qualities the tree might have. It was a Nordmann fir. 

_Well_ , she thought, _at least the needles aren’t sharp and pointy!_ “What happened to the plastic one, which you usually have?” The one she’d hated lasted year yet longed for now.

“The tiny one?” asked Miles, nose drawn up in disapproval. “We put that one where it belongs.”

Alex shook his head. “Just take a seat, mom. Want some hot chocolate? Just made it. It’s good!” He tossed the blanket away. “Got mini marshmallows, sprinkles, cocoa powder…whatever you want!”

_Where it belonged?_ What did that mean? Before she could mull that remark, Alex’s words echoed in her head and her eyes flew his way. “Hot choc— Like, self-made?” She snapped out of her shock. “I’m sorry, you went shopping and got actual ingredients for hot chocolate?”

“Yes,” said Alex, meeting her eyes full on. He looked damned amused by her baffled state of mind. “I did. I do know how to go shopping. So, take off your coat, have a seat, and stop giving that tree the side-eye!”

“Yes, Misses Turner,” agreed Miles, “It’s a pretty tree. Much better than the sad, plastic one that Alex used to have. Don’t you think so?”

Her eyes volleyed back and forth between Alex and Miles. “Uh, the plastic one was sad, yes… Call me Penny, I told you, dear.” She didn’t mind that Alex had a real tree. She was astounded that he did. Her boy had never cared for one before! It was entirely unlike Alex to have one!

“Don’t you worry, though!” Alex got busy in the kitchen. “We didn’t throw the old one away. We put it in the bathroom.”

“Next to the toilet,” Miles added. A laugh escaped him. “And we put toilet paper bows on it.”

“ _We_?” A first clue. Penny decided to ignore the tree and the bows and the chocolate and shopping for now and refocused on her mission. “Who is _we_?”

Miles cleared his throat. “I…uh…helped Alex put the tree up.”

“Did you? How kind.” She shrugged out of her coat and took a second look at his outfit. “While you were dressed up as a reindeer?”

“Rudolph,” Alex corrected.

“Rudolph is a reindeer,” Penny tossed back. 

“Not _every_ Rudolph is a reindeer.”

His constant, running commentary was distracting her in the most fretful of ways! “Yes! I mean, the outfit, what’s with it? Did you come here looking like this?”

“If only,” laughed Alex. 

Miles joined right in. “I wanted to wear it earlier when we went shopping for decorations, but Alex wouldn’t let me.”

They’d gone shopping _together_? Alex, _her_ Alex, had deliberately entered a store to shop for Christmas decorations? The little plastic tree he’d usually have up for the holidays, she’d gotten him years ago. A compromise. That way he’d have at least one cheerful item in his barely decorated place. Whatever was happening?

“Shopping? Yes, I wondered where all that decoration was coming from. You bought it, Alex?”

“I paid for it,” snickered Alex. 

“I loaded the cart,” Miles proclaimed proudly. “You should have seen your son. He knew the size of the tree and wanted to buy only a single box of lights—”

“The string had five hundred lights,” cut Alex in with a snort. “Don’t skip on the details!”

“Fine,” he conceded, “but what was that? Like, no more than a dozen green balls? Green,” he repeated, flashing a look of outrage Penny’s way. “The most invisible color you could possibly put on a tree!”

“Then comes Miles,” Alex jumped in eagerly, lips quirked up, “filling the cart with everything in his reach. Didn’t even look. Just loaded it in. Twinkling lights, bells, hangers, bulbs, figurines, two whole bags of popcorn—”

“Which,” admitted Miles, wheezing a laugh, “sadly never made it to the tree. We were busy all day, skipping lunch, so we finished one bag of popcorn in the car and the other one while decorating the tree!”

Alex was laughing as Miles told it. “My car is a mess! There’s popcorn everywhere!”

“I was wearing the antlers, though.” To underscore his love for those, he promptly put ‘em back on, tipping the headband into place like a crown. “Not to forget, we got the coolest blanket ever.” He pointed at the one Alex had been covered with.”

“Fucking cozy,” tossed Alex from across the room. “ _Very_ cozy, I mean.”

Penny couldn’t help but giggle. How much fun they must have had! It warmed her heart to hear her son did have a good time. Too often she’d worried he’d lost the ability to enjoy his days off. Days off, that, until recently, he’d never taken. Her eyes caught her son and he was beaming as he put the sprinkles on her chocolate. It was a sight so vastly removed from anything she’d become used to. No longer distant and lost in thought, Alex was smiling and joking and spilling over with energy. He was positively giddy. Happy. 

Anything from what she’d expected. 

Then again, maybe she and Pauline had it all wrong. Lately, as she recalled, Alex had often seemed happy. Sure, he was stubborn and a bit testy at times, but she had to admit, she might have pushed his buttons by being too demanding on the grandchildren-issue. And he had worked too much during the summer and the fall. That could be the reason he took time off now. With the stress having gone away, it appeared that his bad mood had vanished as well. He hadn’t even asked her why she’d come over! 

Also, if they’d gone shopping and bought that much decoration, it didn’t point to a financial problem that either one might have. Or? Penny sank her teeth into the corner of her lip, hesitating to ask, yet needing to know. “So…you’re good? The job and that? Both of you are? No troubles there?”

“Troubles?” Miles looked at Alex, confused. The lines on his face deepened. “Money-wise?”

Alex shook his head, lacking answers. “Not that I’d know? Why?”

She scratched her lobe. A habit of hers when situations were leaving her lost and perplexed. “Pauline mentioned you had to sell a very expensive couch in your office and—” She stopped short when Alex burst into laughter. 

Miles followed suit.

Here she was, concerned for the well-being of those two boys and there they were, getting a good laugh out of it! She scoffed. “What’s so funny about that?”

Miles waved a hand, dismissing it, giving the kind of smile to Alex that told her there was a story she’d never get to hear. “You didn’t know the couch. It deserved to go.”

“It was becoming a public safety issue,” Alex threw in, leaving her even more dumbfounded. “He’s not broke, mom. On the contrary. You should see the guy when he goes shopping! All the retailers roll out the red carpet for him!”

“Like you’re any better,” retorted Miles, sticking out his tongue at Alex. 

Alex feigned shock.

Penny was reeling. 

“Did you really think he and I are broke?” her son asked.

“Not – maybe? I don’t know.” They could have been! To clear her mind, she let her attention wander around his apartment. Only, that didn’t help either. It made it worse! His place, she realized for the first time, had filled up considerably. The shelves were full of records and books, as they’d always been, but in between stood picture frames. With pictures of Alex and Miles. With other people. Friends. She’d never seen a single picture of her son with friends, let alone a framed one. As her gaze lingered, she spotted a particular one and squinted to make out the faces. Was that the Cook kid? He sure looked like him, a bit older though. And the other one, what was his name? Matthew something? Didn’t he use to play drums in Alex’s old band? They still hung out? Alex had never mentioned it before.

“Wh—” The words, the question, died on her lips as she spotted the candles on the coffee table. And the big one on the small table by the end of the sofa. Was that a scented one? When had her son discovered that scented candles even existed? When had he bought one? 

Where had all the potted plants come from? Or the assortment of throw-pillows? A giant pillow sat in the corner of the room. Next to it was an entire pile of faux-fur blankets.

“Here, mom.” 

“Huh?” She startled, then saw Alex holding up a mug in front of her. On a plate. With a cookie. An odd cookie. She took it from him, to inspect. “Did you…bake these? Yourself?” She wished she wouldn’t sound so shocked.

Alex slipped back onto the couch and as she carefully dug her teeth into the sugar-coated cookie, dazzled by the fact that it tasted delicious, she could have sworn she just saw Alex wink at Miles. 

Miles was suddenly wearing the softest, smallest smile she’d ever seen somebody give anybody else. And he was giving it to her son. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was one of deep affection.

It was all very bewildering.

“So,” asked Alex, snickering, “what brings you here? Unannounced?”

At long last, a familiar question. “A heart attack,” muttered Penny. 

“Mom?”

She looked up. “Oh, no!” Only to shake her head quickly. Gosh, what had she been thinking! “I’m fine. Dad’s fine. It’s just aunt Sabine.” Shoot, that didn’t sound any better, did it? Penny winced. “I meant to say, aunt Sabine is in the hospital. With a heart attack. But she’ll be fine, too. I’m sure. Just wanted to tell you in person. I was in the neighborhood and figured I could drop by.” Lowering her head, she met his eyes with a demure, albeit not entirely genuine look of guilt. “I know you don’t like it when I do—”

Alex waved her off, rolling his shoulders while smiling indulgently. “’tis fine. Really. I might have been a bit harsh, lately. But you know you’re always welcome, right?”

“I am?” 

“Yes, mom. You are!” 

_Mom_.

He’d been calling her that the entire time. Not that gruesome _mother_ that he’d called her before. On other occasions. She knew he meant it endearingly, but it was hardly a loving term. ‘Mom’ was much better. And it brought a smile to her face. A real one. “It’s strange, seeing you like this. You’ve never celebrated the holidays. And now you’ve got the world’s biggest tree in your living room.” 

More laughter from Alex. “Far from the biggest. Should have seen the one Miles wanted to get! The only reason we settled on this one was the fact that the other one wouldn’t fit onto the roof of my car.”

“The…uh…your car?” He’d made her vacuum his trunk last summer after the geraniums she’d asked him to get for her had dirtied his pristinely clean car and it was on that car that he’d tied a tree? With scratchy branches? The same one that was still, hours later, apparently covered with popcorn crumbs? Penny’s forehead fell into furrows. “Wait, Miles…like…you got it together?”

Alex grabbed his mug and took a sip, making a show of not answering. Penny directed her eyes at Miles, then. “Well?”

“I love Christmas!” Miles raised his shoulders innocently. But she saw the telltale blush on his cheeks. There was a secret here. She could smell it in the air. Miles went on, “Alex didn’t. I made him get a tree, hoping it’d change his mind. I dare say it did.” Miles’ gaze landed on Alex and something fell over them. Penny stared in fascination as the two of them exchanged looks, almost as if having an entire conversation in silence. 

“Told him he could put it up as long as he got rid of it when Christmas is over,” said Alex. “A tree won’t hurt anybody, right?”

“I suppose not,” agreed Penny, convinced there was more to it. Once again, her thoughts returned to Miles’ outfit. “And the thing you’re wearing…that costume…”

“A onesie,” corrected Miles, lips pulled into a grin. “It’s funny, right?”

“Certainly that.”

“And insanely soft,” raved Alex. “’tis like cuddling with a giant teddy bear.”

“Soft?” asked Penny. “Wait... cuddling—”

Alex averted his eyes and drank more chocolate, leaving her unable to fill the blanks yet again.

“Told him that it is,” supplied Miles. Another one of those looks passed between them. 

Penny pushed further. “You got it today, then? While shopping?”

“Uh, no. Actually, got it last year. Never worn it before, though.”

“And you brought it over today because…”

Miles frowned. “I didn’t…oh, I…uh, I’m sleeping over! It’s already late and we figured it’d take us much longer to put the tree up. We had eggnog and you’re not supposed to drive after drinking anyway—”

“Especially not in the back of a limousine,” she quipped, half-joking, half-questioning. 

“Right…” Miles paused, smiled, and looked away. “I’m staying in the guest room.”

“Ah.” She put the mug down. “May I use the bathroom, Alex?”

“What the…just use it. The guest bathroom,” he stretched immediately, however.

“Sure.” Penny made her way out into the corridor, to the left, where the guest room and the guest bathroom were. And she’d have continued on, to maybe sneak a peek into the guest room, for purely motherly spying purposes, but the second she’d rounded the corner, she’d heard rustling in the living room and that made her turn on her heels. Hiding behind the wall, secretly catching a glance of what was going on, Penny all but plopped to the floor when she saw it. 

Right there, in the living room, sat Miles, in his spot on the couch, while Alex had gotten up and now hovered over him, slowly lowering his head and leaning in for a kiss. 

A kiss. 

Her boy was kissing Pauline’s boy. Like lovers did.

Miles’ hands reached up and he put them tenderly against Alex’s cheeks, stretching upward to deepen the intimate act. After a few seconds of gentle caresses, Alex let up and gave the antlers a dab. The move made Miles’ lips haste into a wide smile.

“What did you do with my blinking nose?” she heard Miles ask, with his hands locked behind Alex’s neck. 

Alex cupped Miles’ jaw. “Holdin’ it for ransom. It’ll cost you a lot of kisses to get it back. You know what kind of kisses I’m talking about, right?”

“I do.” The voices lowered to whispers and she could no longer make out the words. But she could see that Miles, apparently, got to work on paying Alex’s demand.

Penny was struck. 

There they were, the two boys, keeping a secret. One far from any notions that their mothers might have had. Although, now that she thought about it, while entirely shocked by the revelation, it did make sense. Weirdly. 

As Alex and Miles shared a look so profound and private that it made Penny feel as though she was intruding on a deeply personal moment, she pulled her sight away and used the quiet moment to inspect her son’s living room some more.

Finally, the puzzle pieces fell into place and she stopped guessing the shapes and instead began viewing the picture. The framed images of Alex and Miles amongst other people were hidden displays of their affection for each other. 

The two mugs had sat next to each other on the table because Alex and Miles had shared the couch and shared the blanket. 

She tiptoed off, down the hallway, and silently peeked into the guest room. Only to smile to herself at the evidence displayed. Nobody slept in this room. No. The bed was made. Two suitcases sat on top of it. Shoes were placed neatly into a rack against the wall. Miles’ shoes, she presumed. A few wrapped gifts piled up on the floor. Gifts they might have gotten for each other. She carefully closed the door again. Penny strained to make out any sounds and heard chatter. The boys were discussing lighting options of their tree, disagreeing over what twinkling mode they should use.

It allowed her a chance to quickly steal a glance into Alex’s bedroom. It was wrong, she knew. She was crossing a line. And at some point, of that Penny was certain, she’d have to confess to it and make amends, but right now, her curiosity was too strong to control and as she nudged the door, which stood ajar, a bit further apart, she spotted all she needed for final confirmation. Two nightstands, each with personal items. Two alarm clocks. Alex used to sleep in the center of his bed, something Penny had always snickered at. Now, it had two sides. She supposed the right side, with the messy nightstand and the comic book on top, belonged to her son. 

She retreated in quietness, not daring to invade their privacy any further. Heading back to the living room, she scanned the scene, saw that nothing intimate took place, and made her presence known, giving the boys a chance to part and retreat further away from one another, into their cover of friendship. “Alex, could you call me a cab? It’s late. I should head home.” For tonight, she’d seen enough. All of her assumptions had been proven wrong and she needed a bit of time to rearrange her swirling thoughts into a workable order.

And as she entered the living room, she was overwhelmed by how obvious it all was, out of nowhere. How had she not seen it before? How had she not made the connection? There was a spice rack in the kitchen. One with an impressive selection. Alex only ever used salt and pepper. When she’d asked him to buy her some saffron once, he’d returned an hour later, gruff, telling her that next time she wanted a wrap skirt, she’d better go herself.

He’d thought she’d meant a sarong.

The memory still made her chuckle. 

A bottle of orange juice stood next to the fridge. Alex didn’t like it. Never had. 

Miles hadn’t cooked in Alex’s kitchen because his own had gotten renovated. He’d cooked here because he’d cooked for Alex. He was wearing that hideous, oddly adorable outfit because he was indeed staying the night. She’d bet he was staying over most nights. Maybe every night. Which was the reason he hadn’t slept at home in a long time.

And her son no longer minded the big, massive Christmas tree because he was no longer alone during the holidays, as he’d been all those other years. He finally had somebody to be with. 

“A cab?” Alex walked up to her as she leaned against the kitchen counter, lost in thought. “Did you come here by cab?”

“I walked.” Oh, she didn’t want him to know that!

“Mom! It’s December, it’s dark outside. And the weather is awful. Something could have happened to you! Are you nuts?”

“He’s right, Penny. It’s dangerous this time of year. You could have slipped on the pavement, or worse!” Miles got up and reached for his phone. “Let me call Hank. He’s nearby. He’ll take you home. He lives near your place, so he won’t mind.”

“Boys, I’m fine. A cab is enough,” she affirmed.

Alex had none of it. “Miles is right. Hank can head home and drop you off on his way,” he said, his voice decisive. “I don’t want you out in this city alone in the evening. Next time, you call me, alright? If you want to visit, I’ll pick you up or dad will drive you. Where’s dad? He wouldn’t let you walk in this city alone like that!”

“He doesn’t know,” she admitted. If he did, he’d only get worried. “Tsk, alright. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“You don’t,” assured Alex.

Miles hung up the phone. “Hank looks forward to driving you. He’ll be here in a minute. He’s in a cafe across the street.”

“I’ll walk you down, mom. Let me grab some shoes.”

Penny nodded and watched as Alex pulled on his boots, not bothering to put on real pants. “At least wear a jacket,” she told him. 

As he put it on, her eyes landed on the small table by the coat rack. Two sets of keys rested inside. Next to Alex’s boots, an almost identical pair stood on the floor. Miles’, she was sure. Two coats hung there. Two leather jackets. Two scarves. It was so glaring, now. All the proof was there, in plain sight.

Miles, hovering in the hallway, extended his hand. “Good night, Penny.”

She ignored the hand and gave him a hug instead. “Night, my dear Miles. I expect to see you for Christmas, understood? I know you’ve promised your parents you’d spent it with them. But we’ll figure it out, alright?” If Miles was part of Alex’s life, she wanted him to be part of _their_ life as well. “There’ll be a gift for you underneath our tree.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said, sounding stunned, even startled at her words.

“It absolutely is,” declared Penny. “We’ll talk soon.” She allowed Alex to lead her out of the apartment. When he closed the door behind him, she linked her arm with his. “Are you happy?”

“Mom, are you alright?” Her Alex sounded genuinely concerned. She eyed him curiously, wondering why he’d think so. “You’ve been acting a bit off, tonight. You’re not…” He hesitated before continuing. “Does it bother you that Miles was there?”

“What?” How could he believe that? If anything, it bothered her that her son was keeping his happiness to himself. Did he fear she wouldn’t be thrilled to hear that he’d finally found somebody to share his life with? “Dear, no! I love that you’ve got somebody with you that…” If she told him, would he want that? Penny faltered, and for now, she chose to keep his secret. “I’m happy that you’ve found Miles. He’s a dear friend to you. I was just a bit surprised, that’s all. As I said, I’m not used to seeing you like this. Christmas usually puts you in a surly mood and you must imagine my surprise to find an enormous tree in your apartment.”

He laughed as they stepped into the elevator. “It is big, alright. But I love it. What can I say? It was there and – It grows on you, you know? I didn’t go out and look for it. To be fair, Miles did,” admitted Alex on a laugh. “Guess it was love at first sight.”

She gave his arm a gentle pat. “Sometimes, it’s like that. We see something and then…” When he turned her way, brows arched high, she smiled. “It’s a nice tree. Not what I expected, but perfect nonetheless.” 

“You’re really weird, sometimes, you know that?” He pulled his arm free, only to wrap it around her shoulder. 

Penny sank into her son’s arm and gave his cheek a quick peck. “Pauline told me that Lena might stay in New York over the holidays. Why don’t you bring Miles with you when you come home? Pauline will want to see the two of you as well, so we have to find a way to schedule it all. Maybe you could spend Christmas Eve with us since Pauline is having a party that night. This way, we’d have the two of you to ourselves. And then, Christmas morning, you can head from our place to hers and have the day with them? She’d be delighted to see you, I’m sure. Unless you got other plans.”

“No, um, nothing set so far, to be honest.”

“I’ll have a chat with Pauline, and we’ll get it set.” The elevator doors drifted apart. “Call me and tell me what Miles likes. Dad and I will want to have a nice gift for him. We already have something nice for you!” 

Alex sighed. “You’re not supposed to get me something.”

“Same time of year, same argument,” mocked Penny. And smirked. “I don’t mind getting a gift from you.”

He chuckled. “And you will.”

When they stepped outside, Hank already awaited Penny, opening the car’s door for her. “Misses Turner, what a lovely evening for a drive, right?”

“Oh, it is. Thank you so much for taking me.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Alex nodded his way. “Thanks, Hank. Weekend’s ahead…”

Penny slid into the car and as she did, she listened to Alex giving Miles’ driver the weekend off, telling him that he and Miles had no plans and he should enjoy some days in the snow as well. Did Hank know, she wondered. He’d have to if he picked Miles up and delivered him back here, each day and night. Should she ask him? Would he tell her anything more than she already knew?

“Alright, Alex. See you Monday,” said Hank, getting in as well.

Miles would stay the weekend, then.

“Yeah. Night, mom. Give dad a kiss and tell him I’ll drop by soon.” Alex closed the back door and before long, the car drove off into the night. 

Penny pulled out her phone. Two rings in, Pauline picked up. “That was a quick visit,” her friend said.

Quick but eventful! “Pauline, buckle up. You won’t believe what I found out. But I can’t tell you right. It’s a…” She glanced Hank’s way via the rearview mirror and smiled kindly. Then she lowered her voice. “It’s the kind of thing that will have to be explained in person. How soon can we meet…?”

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 26**

**#**

Miles continued his story. "Anyway. Me and Alex fell in love at first sight. It was a fairytale love story. We took strolls underneath the moon – that's the big, yellow ball hanging from the sky –, we kissed, we made love – sex,” he clarified, meeting the baby’s big round eyes with dismissive ones. “It’s for grown-ups. Ask mommy when you reach that age. Do not ask daddy. Heed my warning. He’ll only make up nonsense about birds and bees and trust me, that shit will fuck you up! Alex and I…we were so happy. Jesus Fucking Christ!” He covered his nose. “You smell like the worst dumpster truck ever! Let’s get it over with…”

#

Regret and worry made way for heartbreak and coldness. “It’s not a ‘yes’, then,” concluded Alex quietly. He pulled his hands free.

They had held hands the entire time? Miles blinked, looked there. “Ale—”

“Go.”

“What?”

#


	26. Babysitting

Note: As you read this chapter, you find that a few things have changed between our happy love birds. As you follow the story along, the details of what went down hopefully become obvious. For now, just enjoy the ride. 😏

**The End of January 2017**

Miles sat on the floor of the nursery, feeling like good ole’ Charles Darvin, observing foreign species. Eyes fixed on the little baby in front of him, which tried with all its limited might to relay a message to him, it was a guessing game. It had neither the voice, nor the words, nor the mental capacity yet to say or express what it wanted to. What it lacked in knowledge, however, it made up for in noise. Which was bloody frustrating. The thing, small and squishy-looking, stared back at him as if thinking the same thing he was – what the fuck are we doing here? 

He leaned forward, propped his arms up his crossed legs, and rested his heavy, weather-worn head into his palms. The baby sat inside a swinging basket or something – a very colorful and odd-looking piece of furniture, if it could be called so – that Katie had promised him with a smile which he’d immediately recognized as a cherry on top of a nicely wrapped lie would make the baby stop crying No. Matter. What. 

An hour of loud wails later, he was convinced. Nothing could stop babies from crying. And it sure as hell reinforced his decision never getting one himself! After the little one had stopped crying, either because it was tired or because it had come to see it was pointless at any rate – _she,_ that was – she’d taken up scowling. 

“Don’t blame me for the mess we’re in. I didn’t volunteer to babysit. It was forced upon me. Neither of us wants to be here. But it is what it is. Now, you don’t need new diapers – you don’t stink yet – and I was told by your mommy that she fed you before she abandoned the both of us to enjoy some time with daddy. That covers the basics. Let's see… Are you in pain? Nod once for yes, twice for no.” He waited for a reaction. Nothing. “You’re not in pain, then. That’s that. Are you sleepy?” 

The thing made a noise. 

He rolled his eyes. “If you were, you’d fall asleep. You’re rude like that.” Blowing out a deep and exhausted breath, Miles didn't bother stifling his yawn. Nobody in this room would take offense at his manners or lack thereof. “I’m tired. I can tell you that! But I can’t take a nap. Apparently, you can’t be trusted to stay where you are. I suggested strapping you in, but that was met with – in my humble opinion – _entirely_ unnecessary outrage.” His voice went high as he mocked Katie’s. “'No, Mi, you can’t strap babies in!' Why not? Had anyone ever tried? Not, like, strapping-in in a bad way. I could have used one of your daddy’s expensive silk ties and tie your diapers to this weird thing you’re sitting in! They’re very soft, the ties. Fine material!” He knew. He’d practically paid for ‘em. Ever since he'd asked Jamie to prepare his divorce from Lena, his supposed friend had been sending over bills the size of dinosaurs. “Lawyers! Don’t ever become one, hear me? You should come after me. Get rich and…be unhappy in love. Better yet, don’t come after me. You’ll end up miserable.” 

Another noise from the bundle in front of him. This one sounded like a giggle and it made him snort. “Yeah, you’re laughing now. Trust me, sooner or later, the love-bugs will bite you too and guess who’ll be laughing then.” He made an elaborate show of pointing at himself. “That’s right. Me! Your cool uncle Miles will have the time of his life watching you pine after the one you want.” More giggling. He sighed. “No, I won’t. I’m not mean. Sorry. I’m just in a foul mood. You’d be, too, if you were me.” 

He reached out to tickle her belly and she squealed in delight. “I wanna be a baby too.” That'd be nice. No problems, no heartbreak, no sadness. No chocolate, no alcohol, no funny business... “Actually, no, I don’t. I prefer eating real food and not wearing diapers. But I want Alex to touch my belly.” More tickling. “He’s very good at that. You’re almost two decades away from understanding what I’m talking about, but once you get there, believe me, you’ll love having somebody touch your belly. God, don’t tell your mom I said that! She specifically warned me not to corrupt you! But...” Eyes sparkling with mischief, Miles smirked. “You can’t taaaaalk,” he sing-songed. “Good for me. I _finally_ got somebody who will listen and not interrupt me with bad advice. _Talk to him_ ,” droned Miles, impersonating Jamie’s voice. “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the solution, right? If Alex wanted to talk, he wouldn’t have told me to get out.” 

The little one grimaced. Miles winced. “Oh, you better not be doing what I think you’re doing. Ugh. Blech! Let me know when you’re done so we can get this over with. And don’t blame me if I pass out for a bit. What the hell do they feed you, huh? It’s disgusting, hear me?” 

He observed the small thing for a moment. “You care very little for my plight, do you? Let’s see if I can make you change your mind and take up my side in this one. See, many, many diapers ago, your favorite person in the world – me – met somebody spectacular. A guy named Alex. You know him. He’s been here before. He was the one who said you were cute and didn’t mean it. I’m not saying that to insult you, but you’re really not that cute. Try as I might, I don’t get why your mommy and daddy keep gushing over you. You got a dry sense of humor; I give you that. Anyway. Alex and I fell in love at first sight. It was a fairytale love story. We took strolls underneath the moon – that's the big yellow ball hanging from the sky –, we kissed, we made love – sex,” he clarified, meeting the baby’s big round eyes with dismissive ones. “It’s for grown-ups. Ask mommy when you reach that age. Do not ask daddy. Heed my warning. He’ll only make up nonsense about birds and bees and trust me, that shit will fuck you up! Alex and I…we were so happy. Jesus Fucking Christ!” He covered his nose to shield it from the stench. “You stink like the worst dumpster truck ever! Let’s get it over with…” 

Half an hour, two close calls of almost dying of asphyxiation, and the sight of something that was far too disturbing to ever forget, Miles wiped the sweat off his forehead and sat back down on the floor. “Well, I’m glad _you’re_ feeling better,” he groused, wishing he’d worn work-out gear and not his new three-piece suit from the latest Hugo Boss collection. The suit jacket lay discarded in the corner, the tie hung over the doorknob, and the top two buttons of the shirt were undone. “If you do that again before mommy and daddy get home, we’re gonna have a problem. Understood?” 

No reaction from the little one. 

Miles nodded. “Good. We’re clear, then.” Once he’d rolled up his sleeves, he dabbed the baby’s nose, drawing a squeal. “Oh, you wanna know more ‘bout me and Alex? Why, of course, I will tell you more. So glad you ask! He got me the sweetest gift for Christmas that I’ve ever gotten in my life. You’d love it. It’s a giant teddy bear. And he’s clutching a red heart that says, ‘I love you beary much!’ No shit, you _would_ love it. Which is why you will never get to see it! I really thought we’d be together forever. But then came New Year’s Eve…” 

_**New Year’s Eve…early morning**_

“ _Five more minutes,” grumbled Miles as he felt the weight of his love’s body sinking down upon him. “I’ll suck you off, I promise. But I wanna sleep some more. It’s gonna be a long night.”_

_The hot breath of Alex’s laughter collided with his skin and it sparked to live the first signs of arousal. Goosebumps spread over his arms, a smile widened on his lips, and his drowsing cock twitched awake. “Are you sure you can’t make it to the restaurant tonight?” Fingertips ran over his shoulder, coaxing him into surrender, or trying to. “I can’t come to your thing. You said it’s filled with reporters and gossip columnists and colleagues and famous people, and paparazzi will hover nearby.”_

_Yes. All that. Lena and he had been invited by a famous musician and his wife to join them for the small New Year’s Eve gathering – an event two-hundred-and-fifty people strong. Nothing said ‘small’ like an invite list that required alphabetical dividers and an index sheet. “I can’t. Half the people we’re in business with will be there. If I don’t appear, people will ask questions. And I can’t make Lena go alone, to pretend I’m sick or whatever,” something he’d already done too often as of late, “and then show up and risk getting recognized at your party.”_

“’ _tisn’t my party,” objected Alex. “M’just invited.” The words were muffled. His lips were busy trailing kisses down Miles’ neck. “Can’t cancel, though. Two new clients are there. I have to show up.”_

“ _So do I.”_

“ _But I wanna kiss you at midnight. It’s our first time.” Alex pulled on his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. Then, with a look leaking naughty intention, he swung his leg over his middle and made an effort to wiggle on top of him as slowly and teasingly as possible._

_Miles knew. He’d taught him well. “Alex… I can’t…”_

“ _Slip out for a bit,” he hushed against his parting lips. “Sneak away for a kiss.” The tip of Alex’s tongue licked against Miles’ lower lip, leaving a trail of flames in its wake. “You know you want to kiss me. Say that you do.”_

_Words were overrated, especially when he was hard. Flipping them over, Miles dove in for a blistering kiss. “Fuck…I’ll try. I can’t make any promises…”_

“I did end up canceling on Lena.” Eyes closed, not proud of the moment he saw playing back in front of his eyes, Miles sat on the floor, feeling wretched. “I, too, wanted to spend the night with him. For what, huh?” Desolate, single, and an asshole, too. “Like I said, better not come after me. Lena was pissed. You know how she gets. Remember when you barfed over her new iPad Pro? Imagine that, times ten. She called me a bad friend and she was right. I’ve never seen her so disappointed. But I’m an idiot. It’s no secret. And I’m in love. _Was_ in love,” corrected Miles quickly, unconvincingly. 

Seeing the small one in front of him hiccup, he nodded in agreement. “Yes, true. I’m still in love. I don’t get it! All night, that night, we snuck away, we kissed endlessly. We were making out like horny teenagers. Don’t do that, by the way. When you reach that age, don’t act like it. Nobody likes seeing people make out like that.” 

He wanted to make out like that again. With Alex. Hidden amongst hallways, and ferns, and shadowy corners, he wanted to wrap his arms around him and never let go. “I felt fucking awful that night, but somehow, being with Alex, made it all worth it! And what did I get in return?” 

He got shown the door. 

_**January 2nd, 2017**_

“ _What if we told everybody?”_

_Miles stretched his arms far out after he put the laptop away. “Told what?” God, it was already afternoon? He noticed the time in the corner of the tv as the news aired. “That you and I started the new year off by having an ungodly amount of sex and I made you cum so hard that you broke the headboard of our bed?”_

_Walking up to him, then taking a seat on the coffee table right in front of Miles, Alex chuckled. “You keep repeating that. You’ve mentioned twice today already.”_

“’ _cause I’m very proud of that,” grinned Miles._

_Laughter burst from Alex. “I can imagine.” His eyes lit up. “You did very well that night.”_

_Cheeky that he was, Miles stuck out his tongue. One arm reached out and he brushed his knuckles over Alex's temple. “Thank you. You’re welcome.”_

_Leaning into his touch, Alex lowered his gaze and dimmed his voice, which made him sound shy. “_ _I_ _meant, what if we told everybody about us.”_

“ _Us?” Two little letters, unbelievably heavy. “Like, us-us?” His index finger wiggled back and forth between them, waiting for confirmation._

_Alex nodded._

“ _I’m married.”_

“ _I know.”_

_He took a deep, steadying breath. He’d known this moment would come and even though he’d tried to prepare for it, now that it was here, he felt lost at sea. “If we tell people, then they will know that I’m not married for real. Or, they’ll think I cheated. Or…maybe they think Lena and I are having, like, an open marriage or something. I can’t just go and tell…I can’t make that decision by myself.”_ _As he listened to his own words, he wished he wouldn't sound so reluctant. He wished he'd expressed himself better. Only, he didn't know how to._

_Undeterred, Alex scooted further toward him, reaching for his hands and holding ‘em tight. “What if I gave you a good reason to make that decision?” His Adam's apple bopped, letting Miles know he'd swallowed hard._

_Miles edged closer. “Al…what’s going on?” He returned the squeeze, intensifying it. Worried. “Are you…what’s happening?”_

_A couple of deep inhales later, Alex smiled wider, more hopeful, than he’d ever done before. “What if I asked you to leave your wife so you can be with me? What if you stop being her man and become mine?” The tiniest shrug rolled off his shoulders. “Will you?”_

_Words left him. All the words left him. For good, it seemed. He couldn’t come up with a single thing to say and even if he did, his mouth was dry as a desert, his throat was covered top to bottom with sandpaper, and even his tongue had turned limp._

_Did he…did Alex just…did he really ask what Miles thought he’d asked? Did he actually want to spend the rest of his life with him? Did he…? Were his own eyes widening now, as the realization of that sat in, or had they become big, round balls a minute ago? He was staring. Definitely. He knew that. Yet, he couldn't stop. As though he'd lost control over his body and watched from somewhere else._

_He’d have to get a divorce._

_He’d have to tell Lena._

_He’d have to tell his wife who was still mad at him for having bailed on her two nights ago and whom he'd left in a horrible position where she’d been forced to make excuses for him, excuses that nobody had believed. He’d have to tell her that their arrangement was over._

_And then he’d have to tell his family. He’d have to tell his mother and his father that the life he’d lived had been nothing but a well-orchestrated lie, supported by contracts and pretended emotions. He’d have to tell ‘em that he was in love with a man, not a woman. He’d have to admit that the gift that his parents had given them for their wedding had been one made in vain._

_He’d not only become a liar in their eyes. A fact that he’d long been aware of. He’d have to explain why he’d not trusted them enough to be honest in the first place._

_He’d have to turn in his wife into a liar, who’d have to have that same conversation with her parents. She’d have to deliver the same explanations. He’d have to turn her life upside down. He’d have to turn so many people’s lives upside down._

_He’d have to tell his friends. He’d have to tell his colleagues._

_He’d have to tell the world._

_He'd have to—_

“ _You’ve been awfully quiet for a long time now,” Alex pointed out._

_Distantly, Miles recognized that what had been a voice filled with expectation and happiness was now one of concern and regret. That wasn’t what he wanted to happen and he tried to change it, tried to bring that gorgeous smile back to Alex’s lips, but the words didn’t budge._

_He couldn’t speak._

_He didn’t know what to say, where to begin, what to do._

_He was scared._

_And he didn’t know how to handle that._

_More time passed._

_Time went by in chunks. The news on the tv had come and gone. An old episode of_ The Simpsons _was running in the background. He knew it by heart. And it troubled him that the scenes he saw indicated that the episode had not started recently, but had almost run its course._

_Regret and worry made way for heartbreak and coldness. “It’s not a ‘yes’, then,” concluded Alex quietly. He pulled his hands free._

_They had held hands the entire time? Miles blinked, looked there. “Ale—”_

“ _Go.”_

“ _What?”_

_There was an iciness to Alex’s words that Miles had never heard before. “Go. You made your choice,” he said while rising to his feet. “You made it.”_

_He’d done what? Miles barely grasped what was happening right now. One moment he was asked to spend forever with him and now he was being kicked out? “I… Alex, what…?”_

_Alex resumed his activities in the kitchen, stuff Miles dimly recalled seeing him do before his life had fallen off its axis. He didn’t look at him. Not only that, but he also made a display of actively not looking at him. “I asked you a question and you gave me your answer. Go.”_

_Anger rose inside of Miles. “I didn’t say anything!”_

“ _Yes.”_

“ _So—”_

“ _Get out!”_

“I left,” he told the little one who seemed bored by now. “Fucked up, right? You can tell me. I already know. But I was so angry at him. He asks me to marry him, basically, and then kicks me out ‘cause I needed a fucking moment to process it! I tried to fix it, but he wasn’t there the next day. Business trip. At least that’s what Gary told me when I dropped by Al's office. The guy couldn’t lie if his life depended on it! Swear he had the words written out in front of him. Oh, whatever. Not his fault, right? Guess I’m all broken up at the moment. Once again, Alex did the thing he does best and ran away. He’s not answering his phone, he’s not responding to my texts, and if I’m being honest, I’m not all that eager to talk to him right now. He’s a fucking asshole for running away like that. For kicking me out, for…” The pent-up frustration broke free and he couldn’t stop himself. “He’s a fucking selfish asshole who didn’t give me an ounce of a chance to make it right, not that I’m the one who fucked up in the first place. He’s got some big fucking trust issues, that bastard. He’s a small-minded prick that—” 

Miles stopped. His face distorted with regret.

The baby’s eyes turned wide. 

“Now you’re paying attention, huh? Here I am, using all the words that your mom would hit me over the head for just for speaking out loud in front of you! Promise me something,” demanded Miles. “Once you start cursing and mommy overhears you, you blame it on daddy.” 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” hissed a restrained, yet outraged voice behind him. “You’re teaching my daughter, who can’t even speak yet, to throw me under the bus like that? Some friend you are!” Jamie put his hands against Miles’ shoulder, leaned down, and winked at his little one. “You blame Miles, my little princess. Or mommy.” 

Jamie straightened up, took his kid from the swinging basket, and sat down, cradling her in his arms. “How are you?” 

“You’re asking me or your daughter, who can’t speak?” Miles pulled his eyebrows into mocking arches. Then shook his head with a scoff. “I’m fine. She, on the other hand… I mean, what the hell do you feed this kid?” 

“I know,” groveled Jamie in commiseration. “Stinks awful, right?” He blew a raspberry against her belly and smiled when she giggled. “Oh, Miles, look. She’s so cute when she laughs!” He blew another one. More giggles. “Who’s the prettiest princess in the world? Who is?” 

“Well, _princess_ ,” droned Miles with cutting seriousness, “if you ever need a pause from this nonsense, let me know. I’ll get you out of here. I got a neat new place. Flat-screen tv, bigger than you've ever seen before, a giant bathtub. Somebody your size could swim in it! Not that I would let you,” he added peevishly and in response to Jamie’s look of shock. “It’s got a view of the city that rivals anything in existence. And I got a guest room. If you care for privacy. Plus, the Wi-Fi is awesome. Butler’s nice, too.” 

“Don’t you listen, my little one. Uncle Miles is sad and lonely. He’s just acting cool. He lives in a hotel and the butler gets paid to be nice to him. I offered him our guest room, but he stubbornly refuses.” 

“If I move into your guest room, you’ll have me moonlight as a babysitter on the regular. I politely decline. No offense to you, small one. Besides,” mumbled Miles. “I need to be alone for a while.” 

“To do what?” Jamie asked sideways, still focusing his attention on his daughter. “Turn bitter and hate everybody? Fucking go talk to him!” 

“He—” Miles stopped to lower his voice. “He kicked me out. He assumed the worst. And then he fucking ran away as he always does. I’m not making the first step this time. He has something to say, he knows where to find me. Until then, as far as I’m concerned, we’re done!” 

Shaking his head, Jamie sighed. “Don’t you get it, Miles? It’s been almost four weeks since you last saw him. Times flies. Alex has never been good at making the first step. I know that you love him and he loves you, too. He fucking proposed, didn’t he?” 

“And then,” added Miles, irate over the fact that he had to keep repeating the part that mattered, “he told me to go. He told me to fucking get out. Instead of—” Miles cut off, unwilling and unable to get into it again. The memory cut too deep. His emotions were raw. And his heart needed a pause from it all. “I don’t want to fight, Jamie. I don’t have the strength left to fight, alright?” These days, he hardly had the strength to leave the bed. “I’m going home.” 

“You’re going to a hotel,” corrected his friend. “That’s not home.” 

“I’m going _home_ ,” Miles bit back with stubborn determination. “Then I’m going to bed. And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow ends up being a better day than today.” Maybe, tomorrow, he'd wake up and not expect to find Alex sleeping next to him, only to find him not there. Maybe, tomorrow, he'd wake up and…

Maybe, tomorrow, it'd hurt a little less. Just a little.

“Tell Katie goodbye from me. Let’s meet up soon. Have drinks, whatever.” He gathered his belongings, shrugged the jacket back on. “I know you mean well.”

“The room is available. Day or night. Just come here.” 

He forced himself to smile, but couldn't keep it up for long and hurried toward the door. “Goodnight.” 

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 27**

#

Doreen did mention the other day that a certain publication aimed at gay men had inquired about an interview. He’d believed it’d be to discuss the new app and the changes made to the main one. Now, though… “Mom, you didn’t mention my name, or the agency, did you?” He kept his voice nonchalant, giving her the benefit of the doubt. 

#

Alex grabbed the kettle. “Nothing. And that’s it. Mom, I love you. But what happened between me and Miles is none of your business.” He stopped mid-move, the kettle overflowing with water as he held it beneath the running faucet. “How’d you find out? Who told you?” 

“Pauline.” 

Miles! Damnit! He shut the water off and slammed the kettle on the stove. His ex couldn’t fucking bring himself to say a word to anybody when it mattered, but now he had no issues at all telling the whole world? “What else did she tell you?” 

#


	27. Put In A Box

#February

#Miles

“You’re gay.” Pauline Kane sat at the coffee table; fingers curled around the handle of her butterfly-adorned teacup and she put her lips to the fine edge of it to sip. Once done, taking her time, she returned the cup to its intended spot on the small, matching plate, leaned back, and folded her hands inside her lap. All the while, those three or rather two and a half words hung in the air like the blood-stained blade of a guillotine waiting to drop.

Even with the sharp edge of the metal still dangling atop him, Miles felt a head or two short of his usual height. He looked away. He felt awful. Horrible. The worst kind of son he could possibly be. He’d lied to her, for too long! There wasn’t a chance in hell that her heart wasn’t broken because of his actions. She’d always been there for him. She’d supported his plan when he’d started _Miracle Aligner_ right after school. Her basement had been his first office. She’d shed tears the day she’d watched him exchange vows with his wife. She’d been his rock and his strongest supporter. And what was he?

Fake as fuck.

“I’m so sorry.” Shit, he didn’t even dare meet her eyes. What would he find there? Disappointment? Pain? Betrayal? Would she hate him now that he’d told her everything, starting with the phony marriage and ending with his happy, albeit short-stopped relationship with Alex? Well, he’d yet to fill her in on the ending. One bad bit of information at a time. “You have to believe me, none of what I’ve done I did with the intent to hurt you or dad! It kinda just…snowballed, you know? I never meant for any of this to turn into this giant clusterfuck. But I _am_ sorry. I’m not making excuses. I’m only trying to explain… Oh God, it’s so fucked up!”

Silence.

He felt worse with each second that ticked by. He deserved it.

She reached for her teacup again. “Did you know there’s a magazine called _Attitude_ which, apparently, is aimed at the LGBTQ+ community?”

Brows furrowed, he met her gaze with hesitation and much confusion. “Uh…yes?” What was she getting at? Was this her way of…of what, wondered Miles. Eyes pinched together. “I don’t understand.”

Not sipping any more tea, but merely admiring the delicate cup in her hand, she rewarded it with a proud smile and a fond look. “I’ve been reading it for a while now. Quite informative. There was a story in it, months ago, about gay men and the prejudicial notions that their sexuality equaled a natural gift for style. The author argued that the mere act of being gay says nothing about one’s talent for personal or interior style and that it would be false to make assumptions about one’s sexual orientation based on the contents of one’s closet or the décor of a living room. I thoroughly agree with him that prejudices of any kind are wrong. However, I never noticed until recently how very well you and Alex dress. I’m sure the fact that you and Alex have too much money at your disposal helps with that, but I don’t know any other men your age who look as dapper and elegant as the two of you.”

He scratched the spot below his ear, unsure what to do or say. Judging from her story, it did register with her that he was gay. But he wasn’t convinced it registered in the right parts of her brain. “Er…thank you?”

“Oh, you’re welcome, darling. Another article mentioned the perils that parents fell into when hearing for the first time that their children were _not_ straight. On that note.” She put the cup away and put her hand on his leg, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I wrote a letter to the editor of the magazine and – fine person, that one. Very polite! The point is, I argued that the term ‘straight’ was misleading for it had nothing to do with sexual orientation. ‘Straight’ means moving or looking toward a direction without curves or bends. If you apply it to romantic notions, if anything, it means seeing somebody, falling in love right away, and voila. Done. It makes no difference to the drawn line where it extends to, male or female. The editor said I argued well, but there was little he could do about that terminology. He did send me the next edition for free, though.”

Miles let that sink in.

The positive thing was that she was touching his leg and she did it lovingly, and it calmed him for it assured him she still cared and didn’t hate him for his secrecy and years of lying. On the other hand, she’d likely signed the letter she’d written to the editor with her full name. Doreen did mention the other day that a certain publication aimed at gay men had inquired about an interview. He’d believed it’d be to discuss the new app and the changes made to the main one. Now, though… “You didn’t mention my name, or the agency, did you?” He kept his voice nonchalant, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“No,” said Pauline immediately, shaking her head to emphasize that. “I don’t use you or your name to get any benefits, you know that. But I was out of stamps and envelopes and I asked Doreen if she could post it for me.”

After changing the name of the company from _Miracle Aligner_ to _Kane Inc._ they’d ordered a slate of new postal equipment, including pre-printed envelopes that carried the new logo front and center in an effort to get people to remember it. They also used personalized stamps.

This time around, he lowered his head for an entirely different reason. “Mom…” Diving his face into the palms of his hands, he groaned. “How could you? Why would you even do that?”

“’cause I don’t want my son to be labeled anything. What’s the difference between being gay, straight, or bi? You’re in love with a person. That’s all that matters. I googled the term ‘gay’. Did you know? There are some mean people on the internet, I’ll have you know. I told your dad and suggested reporting those people to the police for the vile opinions they were spreading. He said I was taking this too personal, but rest assured, he was so mad he spent the entire afternoon chucking wood to get over his anger. He, too, thinks it is nonsense to put somebody into a box. And he likes Alex a lot. Gushed about him for days after the two of you dropped by for Christmas. By the way, you two were doing a miserable job of hiding your relationship. You were giggling into Alex’s shoulder the entire day! And Alex could not keep his hands off of you!” Her face fell into dismay. “I just wished Alex hadn’t gifted him that giant toolbox.” She sounded miserable. “He’s fixed everything that was broken and when he was done with that, he started fixing the things that were fine in the first place. I had to sneak an electrician into the house _two times_ already! Which reminds me, you’re taking dad out next Tuesday. I don’t care what you do, but it has to last from eleven a.m. to four p.m. for that’s the timeframe the guy gave me.”

“What guy?” sighed Miles, sensing a headache on the horizon. This conversation was taking odd turns.

“The one I hired to fix the washing machine. The gasket looked brittle, and there was a pipe wrench as part of the toolbox. Spent two hours mopping the water off my tiles… Anyway, how’s Alex? Haven’t heard from him in a while and Penny told me he was very busy and hardly called at all.”

“Mom…about that.” He covered the hand of hers that lay on his leg with his own and squeezed it. “He and I are done.”

Pauline withdrew her hand. “Hold it. First you’re gay, and now you’re single?”

With a snort he shook his head. He really should have expected this. “You’re cool about me being gay, but being single is unacceptable?” Now that he it gave it some thought, something striking occurred to him. “Wait – you wrote a letter to the editor of a gay magazine before you knew I was gay? And with Alex? How did you know?”

“From Penny.”

Naturally. “How did she know?” he followed up.

“She saw you kiss.”

“What? When?” They’d been so damn careful whenever she’d been around. “For how long has she known?”

“Like…what was it, let me think. Er, oh, right. That day you got your tree.”

Penny had dropped by that day, he remembered. To be fair, he’d suspected that she’d known for a while. Alex had brushed it off as silly. But Miles had been skeptical. There’d been something about her curiosity that had sparked his own. He met his mother’s eyes with puzzlement. “You didn’t say anything for months? Why not?”

“I waited for you to say something. Oh, but you are so good at keeping things to yourself. I’ve known for such a long time that you and Lena only pretend to be married.”

“We were married. Still are, technically.”

“But without feelings,” contested Pauline. “I had my hopes up for you and Alex.”

He raised his finger. “No, no, no. None of that. You’re not making me feel guilty for being single. Not yet. One thing at a time. When did you find out about me and Lena?”

“I don’t know. Months ago? A year? Feels like a long time. I dropped by your place and she was on the phone with a man and…” Pauline averted her eyes with regret. “I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but I knew you were at work in your office that day and she kept telling him how much she loved him and how she wished she’d be in New York with him just then. Of course, I assumed the worst, so I had to listen on! To make sure I got it right!”

“No,” Miles disagreed. “Noooo…”

“Well, I did,” his mother admitted. “And that’s a good thing. She told the man that she’d mentioned him to you and that you were happy for her. There were some other bits and pieces and I put the puzzle together. I thought you knew, to be honest.”

“You thought that I knew that you knew?” Fingers rubbed his left temple. “Why?”

“Alex overheard me talking to Penny about it. Last summer.”

The night he’d shown up at his place. When he’d stepped into the shower and–

The sudden memory of Alex’s lips leaving irreversible scars on Miles’ heart caught him unprepared. All that anger that he carried inside of him, that rage for how Alex had ended it in the blink of an eye without ever giving him a chance to say his peace, gradually gave way to the bone-crushing sadness of no longer being with the man he loved so much. He still woke up at night, reaching for him, realizing he wasn’t there anymore, and then struggling with the questions that filled the empty spot instead.

How did he end up here? Alone, living in a hotel room, working more than ever while enjoying it less and less? How’d he ended up single when he’d been so sure last year that he’d finally found his match? Why didn’t Alex call? Why didn’t he reach out and demand answers to questions that Miles knew he must be having as well? He, too, had believed they’d be together still, hadn’t he?

Why was Alex doing fine and why wasn’t he?

Why didn’t Alex miss him? Why had it been so fucking easy for him to cut the cord and toss him out?

Why the fuck couldn’t Miles get over him?

“Sweetheart.” Pauline scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t care that you’re gay. I wish you would have told me sooner, and I wish you and Lena had been honest with me and your father, I won’t deny that. But I had a lot of time to think it over and I guess a part of me understands why you did it. I’m not mad. I’m worried. When you and Alex were here for Christmas, you were happier than I’d ever seen you before. How did you go from that to this? There are dark spots beneath your eyes. You look tired and exhausted. And on the verge of crying! My sweet little boy. Come here.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “Tell me what happened.”

He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. There was a barrier inside of him. A last stand against the full force of his emotions. If it fell, he’d lose it. He’d sink into a hole and he wasn’t sure he’d ever find his way out of it. Instead, he snuggled into his mother’s warm arms and breathed in her scent of endless understanding and unconditional love. “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you, but I really don’t know.”

*  
  


#Alex

Alex stood in the doorway of his apartment, staring at his mother as she scowled at him. She looked like the mixture of a scarecrow and a snowman. Her dark blue, large-brimmed hat was covered in a thick layer of melting snow. The maroon coat, a mismatch – color-wise – to every other item she wore, was covered with molten dews, and the heavy boots ruined his new doormat. “Uh…would you like to come inside and maybe get a towel?”

“I’d like to know why you and Miles broke up and also why you didn’t tell me about it.” She shrugged the coat off. “A towel, yes please. Also, it’s Sunday afternoon. Why are you wearing your pajamas?” Before he had a change to grab her a towel, she shoved the wet hat into his unprepared arms. “Have you got tea? I’m cold. And my boots are not water-proof. It’s dreadful, I’ll have you know. I just got them. The sales-assistant told me they were the best they had to offer.”

“Are they supposed to be water-proof?” wondered Alex with just a dash of doubt – enough to let her hear it but not too much to suffer for it. A little smirk danced over his features, probably the first one in weeks, as he watched from the corner of his eyes as his mom shed her boots, revealing his father’s white tennis socks. A moment later, he returned with a towel, a dry set of socks, and his slippers. “Careful, don’t slip on the wet floor, mom.”

“I’ll try my best,” drawled Penny, “and no, that feature wasn’t specifically advertised, but one would think that when one asks for winter boots one wants water-proof, or rather snow-proof winter boots. Right? Just as one would think that one’s only son would confide in his mother in the case of heartbreak.” She followed him into the kitchen, where she perched up on a stool. “So, what happened?”

Alex grabbed the kettle. “Nothing. And that’s it. Mom, I love you. But what happened between me and Miles is none of your business.” He stopped mid-move, disregarding the kettle which was overflowing with water as he held it beneath the running faucet. His voice tipped up a notch. “How’d you find out? Who told you?”

“Pauline.”

Miles! Bloody hell! He shut the water off and slammed the kettle on the stove. The guy couldn’t fucking bring himself to say a word to anybody when it mattered, but now he had no issues at all telling the whole world? Anger boiled up in him. “What else did she tell you?”

“That Miles doesn’t know why it’s over and she’d really like to hear your side of it. As would I, by the way.” She nodded towards the tea-box. “Peppermint, if you have. And extra honey. It’s cold.”

Ignoring that bit of lopsided logic, he grabbed the tea bag, dropped it into a mug, and placed it next to the kettle. Then he sat his elbows onto the counter, lowered his head upon ‘em, and waited. Just watched. Lingering in the spot by the stove, mentally counting the minutes as the water took its time reaching steaming temperature. He was doing it a lot lately. Observing things. He’d watched a bird fly by his window for half an hour last week. Back and forth, back and forth. Just yesterday, he’d spent almost an hour staring aimlessly at the big clock up his office wall. He’d been alone there. Nobody seemed to be interested in working extra hours on a Saturday afternoon. A nice experience, though. Sitting in his chair, listening to the silence as it dragged on, knowing the phone wouldn’t ring and no knock would interrupt him.

What else was he supposed to do these days, but wait?

Wait for what, a voice inside his head always asked. He never answered. It wasn’t as though he could answer. Admitting to himself that he waited for Miles to call was pathetic.

He could look at his mother, maybe have a chat with her, but what about? Life? Love? The ramifications of putting one’s heart out there and getting it handed back, shredded to pieces? He refused to do that. And he couldn’t, could he? Be honest with her? She was a dangerous species, always a twisted thought or two ahead of him. Always aware of his feelings, long before he had a chance to catch up. Two people in the world could read him well. One had decided to walk out, the other one sat behind him. He was even scared to face her.

What if she saw the sadness in his eyes? He couldn’t allow that.

Penny cleared her throat. “Darling? Tell me your version of events.”

“There’s nothing to my side.” Alex made sure his sentences were short and sharp. She could read an entire story out of a single ill-chosen word. “One day we were happy, the next day it was over. It’s that simple. For more information, ask Miles.”

“Is it true that you left the country because of it?”

“Is that what he said?” _Blame it all on me,_ thought Alex with cutting bitterness. His tone when he spoke up, however, was calm and reserved, as far removed from any feelings as was possible. “I had a meeting in Norway. It had been scheduled for a long time.”

“Norway,” his mother repeated, voice thick with incredulity. “You often have meetings in Norway? In January?”

The way she pronounced ‘Norway’ made him roll his eyes. He might as well have said ‘the moon’, or ‘hell’. The kettle began to pipe. “You here to call me a liar?”

“Alex, don’t! Look at me and tell me what happened!”

“I told you,” he bit back. “I was with Miles and I’m not with Miles anymore. I can’t tell you more than that, alright? I’m not being rude, I’m not being secretive, there’s simply nothing more to say. Accept it, or fucking ask Miles!” With that, he put the mug in front of her and spun back around.

A pause.

Alex stood in front of the sink, hands against the counter, resting his weight upon them. He felt so powerless, lately. Always tired, always exhausted. No matter how much he slept, the moment he woke up, he craved more. The act of leaving the bed was by itself a physical exercise. His drive had vanished. When he showered, he couldn’t bring himself to rush, as he’d done for most of his life. The new clients, big and valuable, were no longer interesting him. A heavy breath fell from him and he reached up, smothering the messy strands of his unkempt hair into submission. Shit, he hadn’t even showered today. Maybe that was why he wasted so much time ‘watching’ stuff. It required no energy.

Shoulders slumped. His head fell forward. Eyes closed. “I really don’t want to talk about it. Can you please accept that? Just this once? Can you do me this one favor?” Talking about it hurt. It brought back all the questions. All the confusion. Everything he tried to hide from.

He sensed a warm figure behind him, and for the briefest second he imagined it was Miles. It was all he wanted. Deep down, away from his broken heart and injured pride, far removed from daylight, his deepest longings still made their presence known. And he needed Miles. He yearned for his arms, for his embrace. He wanted to fling himself into his arms and never let him go again. Shit, they should be together right now! They should be a few feet away, curled up on the couch, like they used to be on lazy Sunday afternoons. They should be giggling about silly jokes and making fun of bad tv shows. He wanted to be on that couch, wrapped around him, smirking against Miles’ cheek as he watched his boyfriend order expensive shirts online while nestled into Alex’s arms. He missed cleaning up the kitchen after Miles had made a colossal mess when producing the most delicious meal imaginary. He desired his warm lips, soft and sweet, always welcoming and smiling.

He missed kissing him and grazing the skin of his beautiful face. He missed tracing the fine lines in the corners of his eyes, lines that Miles insisted were there because he laughed so much and not because they were wrinkles. Alex missed loving him and telling him so.

But the arms that wrapped around him weren’t strong, or defined with muscles, or even particularly long. They were female. They were his mom’s. And they felt incredible. “Come here, my boy. You don’t have to say anything. And I promise, if you want to cry, it’ll be our secret. I won’t even tell your dad.”

With a soft chuckle, he slipped into her embrace. “’tis fine, mom.” They stood there for a long time, just hugging. When they were done, the tea was no longer steaming. Penny reached for the honey, returned to her seat, and sat back down.

Alex sat down next to her. He still felt all the things he’d felt ten minutes ago. But his heart was the tiniest bit lighter. What magical thing a mother’s hug could be. For a while, he watched his mom sip her tea. Then his gaze drifted across his apartment. The shelves were emptier these days, no longer displaying framed images. They were in a box, locked away in his guest room, along with the pillows that Miles had gotten, a variety of bedsheets that he’d washed half a dozen times and which he was convinced still smelled of Miles. He’d FedExed the shoes, the suitcases with clothes, and all other personal belongings to him after he’d returned from his trip to Norway. Three suitcases and six large moving boxes full of his stuff.

It hadn’t been a lie. The trip. He had met a client there. The meeting had lasted half an hour. The rest of the week he’d holed up in a hotel room, trying to get drunk on what little the minibar had to offer and watching shitty television shows that he didn’t understood in the first place. Between that and trying to sleep, he’d tried to make sense of what had happened, yet, even now, weeks later, he still couldn’t.

He’d been so sure that Miles would say _yes_ and kiss him and make love to him and make plans with him for a future together. It was fucking ridiculous, to be honest. They’d already discussed plans for the future. They’d talked about travel destinations. They’d decided going to Italy in the spring for two weeks, staying at Miles’ little mansion by the sea. They’d skimmed over real estate ads, vaguely entertaining the notion of finding a larger place with a closet big enough for both of their wardrobes.

What Alex had asked him that one fateful night, it had been nothing but a confirmation of everything they’d already thought about. But instead of agreeing, or even saying he’d think about it, Miles had said nothing. He’d just sat there, staring off into the distance, a blank look on his face, one of panic, and after half an hour of waiting for a response, Alex had given up.

Miles had never been one who could say _no_ to people, so Alex had done him a last favor and taken the burden from him.

If he’d wanted to say _yes_ , he’d have done so.

“When was the last time you went out and had a proper meal?” His mother had finished her tea. “Go and shower. I’ll blow-dry my shoes. And when we’re done, I’m taking you out. You need some good, old comfort food.”

“Fish ‘n Chips?”

“Uh…” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, fine. Get moving.”

Maybe he did need to leave the apartment for a bit. He shuffled off, toward the bedroom.

“By the way,” called Penny from behind. “I’ve known about you and Miles since last December. When you’re feeling better, you and I are going to have a long discussion about keeping sexual orientations and boyfriends from your parents, are we clear?”

He snorted into the empty bedroom. “Don’t expect me to feel better for a while…” When he returned half an hour later, somewhat presentable, he found his mother sitting on the couch, a brown box in front of her. “What’s that?”

“For you,” Penny said, not leaving the thing out of her sight. “A woman dropped it off a few minutes ago. She didn’t want me to sign anything. I don’t think she was a messenger, but if she was, she is the best dressed messenger I’ve ever seen in my entire life. She wore white high heeled pumps. And they were dry, Alex. Dry. It’s snowing outside!”

Alex heard himself laughing and was surprised by it, given his fractured state of mind, but his mother’s shock was amusing. “Maybe she came by cab? Did you ask her?”

“’bout her shoes? No!”

“What she wanted,” he tossed back. It did stoke his curiosity. “You know Janine, so it wasn’t her. You’ve seen a picture of Sally. Maybe—”

“It wasn’t her! This one was… _beautiful_.”

“Mother,” he teased, lips quirked, “did you develop a crush on that woman?”

“Tsk, no! Oh, come here and open it.”

He walked there. “Did she say anything else? What’s in there? Why she came by on a Sunday to drop it off?”

“Only that she was in a hurry. She asked if this was your place, that she was sorry she had to do it, something about spines, and then she dashed away. But like I said, her shoes were perfect.”

“Spines?” Strange, he had to admit. “Let me…gimme the thing…just…” He tore the box open. It was nothing from any online shop, not that he recalled ordering anything. Plain, brown, taped up. Once undone, he peaked inside. “A woman, you said?” Had he said it loud enough? He wasn’t sure. His voice sounded hollow. He’d scarcely heard his own words. As if somebody had knocked the wind right out of him, he sat down. Took a slow, shaky breath. “Long hair? Elegant?”

Penny nodded. “Alex?”

“I think the name’s Lena.”

“Lena?” His mother blinked. “Like, Miles’ Lena?”

A curt nod rolled from his shoulders. He’d never met her, but Miles had described her often. He tended to paint her as some sort of mythical being, fearful but pretty, smart as one could be, too smart for Miles’ tastes.

Penny scooted closer, trying to peek into the box. “What makes you think so? Are there things of Miles in that box?” She reached for it. “May I?”

Alex let her take it from his hands. “Not Miles’ stuff. Mine. Er…those are…” Eyes fell to his lap and he swallowed hard in an effort to control his reaction. It was useless at this point, was it not? His thoughts were all over the place. His composure was shot. His heart…well, what was left of it, ached everywhere. “We kinda lived together when – before, I mean. I already sent back all his boxes. Guess he asked her to…you know.” There went his hopes for a call. Or a visit. Or a reunion.

“There’s barely anything in here,” Penny remarked, with a tone of surprise. “Two pairs of underwear, some bodywash, Eau de Toilette, a book, two socks. Was that really all you had over? Where’s the rest?”

A shrug from Alex. “We stayed mostly here.”

“Still,” contested his mother. “You said you returned boxes with his stuff? Plural? You didn’t move in together right away, I assume.”

Why was that important? What did it matter who had what where? “So, I travel light. What’s the big deal? I didn’t stay over much. He moved in here, sorta.” He envied him. Miles could pack Alex’s belongings into a shoebox and by that eradicate all his traces from his life. Meanwhile, Alex was stuck living in an apartment that reeked with happy memories which now haunted him like ghosts!

She put the box away. Her words came out with careful consideration. As if taking unsteady steps. “Remember when grandma was admitted into the hospital after she fell on the stairs, a month before she…you know…before it ended?”

Sometimes, just sometimes, he’d like a manual to his mother’s brain. To figure out how it was wired and where it was wired wrong. Maybe he could fix it. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

“We were looking up places for her to stay. Retirement homes, assisted living facilities, that sort. Meanwhile, you were in the hospital, spending time with her, saying goodbye to her.”

“She was very old, mom. Look, I’m sorry, ‘cause I know this is hard for you. But she was very sick and very old, and—”

“I’m saying, you always expect the worst. You plan for the worst. You anticipate it.”

“She was ninety-two.”

“Some people make to one-hundred. Or further.”

“It’s a box, mom. Nothing more and nothing less.” He picked it up, closed it up, and shoved it underneath the coffee table. It was a box that symbolized an ending. And it was time for him to accept it. “Want to grab a bite or not?”

“Sure, darling. Let’s go…”

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 28: **

#

“Dear Lord, what unjust punishment have you unleashed upon my poor, burdened wife?” 

Lena snorted. “Let me quote you here: bite me. This is the kind shit Jamie should help you with. He’s also a lawyer, which should come in handy once the police catch us digging around a pond at night. Swear, if I were a cop catching the two of us, I’d think we trying to dump a body!” 

#

He shook his head. “It’s not about pride. He’s always doing this. The moment things get real, he bolts. If I go to him… Even if we made it work, how am I supposed to know he won’t run again? What if we have a fight? Do I need to call his mother to ask her if he’s hiding in his room? I don’t want him to run _away_ from me. If he wants us to be together, I want him to run _to_ me when things get tough! I want to be his rock. Not the shadow he runs from.” 

“Tell him that!” 

“I shouldn’t have to.” 

“Oh, yes. Definitely no pride-issue at all!” 

His jaw ticked. “Can we change the topic? Why do we have to discuss my love life right now?” 

“Uh, you’re the one in duck shit? I’d say the topic presents itself.” 

#

Jamie, cooly, turned from Miles to the two women in the room. “What’s with him?” 

“Sexual frustration,” Lena quipped. 

Pauline coughed violently. “Lena!” 

“I’m sorry, but it’s true! Hey, Jamie. How’s the little stinker?” 

“My sweet little princess,” he rephrased, voice stern, “is doing wonderful. Thanks for your phony interest.” 

Lena stuck out her tongue, grown-up professional that she was. “You’re welcome.” 

#


	28. Duck Shit

**#End of February**

**#Miles**

“I know I said we should work on our friendship, but thinking back, this is not what I had in mind,” mused Lena, sounding distracted as she adjusted the black knitted beanie on her head. “It’s ruining my blow-out, by the way. I don’t like wearing beanies.”

About a meter and a half away, almost hidden inside the darkness of the night, wading through water that was less liquid and more goo, cocking his head from side to side, feeling like a breed between Indiana Jones and Goofy, Miles groaned with annoyance. “Take it off, then! Who told you to wear it? And could you please lower your voice? It’s fucking late and I don’t want anyone thinking we’re doing some fucked up shit out here! And stop moving your hand around. I need light right here!” He pointed to the spot next to the bright yellow tip of his rubber boots. “I think I saw something.”

“I _am_ holding the light steady. By the way, I can’t take the beanie off. It’s fucking cold, in case you haven’t noticed. And even if it weren’t, we _are_ doing some fucked up shit, alright?! That requires the proper outfit.” Her tone changed, no longer lecturing him, and instead describing her far from winter-proof getup and gliding her hands slowly down her body to highlight each item.

By that, though – how else could it be?! – she stole him of his much-desired light. Miles bit the inside of his cheek.

Lena carried on unperturbed. “I went all out at _Harrods_ , just for you, my love. Told the woman I was looking for a cat-woman type of look, but weather-appropriate. Boots, black, leather, zippers,… You know, something _cool_ and…what’s the right term? Oh! Subtle. Cat-woman or Catherine Zeta-Jones in _Entrapment_. The girl working the shoe section was twenty-ish. I don’t think she has the first idea who Catherine Zeta-Jones even is. I felt so fucking old. Thanks, by the way. I’m blaming you for all of this—”

“Fucking stop moving!”

“Hold the fucking torch yourself, then!”

“I can’t!”

“Why the hell not?”

Eyes snapped up, small and simmering with anger. The right arm wiggled. “Long stick.” Then the left arm did the same. “Scoop net. Now, this _could_ come as a surprise to you, but I only have TWO hands.”

Lena’s jaw dropped. “Two hands? You don’t say!”

“Bite me!”

“Fucking get going,” his wife hit back, displaying her pristine manners with impunity. “Who fucking digs around in a bloody duck pond in the middle of the fucking night to search for a fucking key to a fucking lock that’s fucking stuck on a fucking bridge halfway across the fucking city, huh?”

“The husband of somebody who loves the word ‘fucking’ way too much,” replied Miles, dry as a desert, dutifully searching on.

“Not just the word,” Lena pointed out. “I think I chipped my nail.”

“Dear Lord, what unjust punishment have you unleashed upon my poor, burdened wife?”

“Let me quote you here: bite me. This is the kind shit Jamie should help you with. He’s also a lawyer, which should come in handy once the police catch us digging around a pond at night. Swear, if I were a cop catching the two of us, I’d think we trying to dump a body!”

“In your mind, everybody always dumps bodies. All. The. Time. You gotta stop watching those Netflix documentaries about murders. It’s not good for you!”

“Why?”

“’cause Katie told me that you suspected _her_ of dumping a body!”

“No,” protested Lena swiftly, “that’s not true. Not a body. She had that guilty look on her face when I got there the other day and I was right! She did dump something.”

“A diaper!”

“Sure smelled like a dead body. And she was right to look guilty. She forgot I was coming over!”

“She’s got a baby!”

“So? I got a company!”

“ _I_ ,” Miles stretched, “have a company.”

“Semantics.”

“Facts.”

“Nonsense. Would you hurry? I’m freezing. And while you’re at it, hurrying, I mean, you can explain to me one more time why we’re doing this. I didn’t get it the first two times!”

“You told me to,” he retorted with a note of indignation and a strong layer of defensiveness. “You said I should figure out what I want and get it.”

“Yes,” agreed Lena, sighing in desolation. “What a genius idea that was! You know, I was thinking, _be a good friend. Tell him to get his shit together!_ How was I supposed to know it’d lead to us digging for a key in a stinking pond!”

The stick landed in the ground, hard, with a swooshing sound as drops of cloying water splashed around. “Know what would speed this up? If you did some actual fucking digging.” His voice got crankier. “’cause so far, only one of us is!”

“I’m wearing my new ‘I’m doing some shady shit’ boots and those are _Gucci_.”

“You played paintball wearing a white _Valentino_ dress and a Kevlar vest!”

“Yes,” she granted without skipping a beat. “And I won. Big time. You had a huge bruise on your ass for well over a week. Couldn’t sit still, no matter what. Let me rephrase, then. Me and my _Gucci_ boots have no interest whatsoever in stepping into duck shit. You gotta draw a line somewhere. Besides, I’m not the idiot who tossed the key into this pond, so bloody dig ahead. Why did you do it? Since when do you believe in this shit?”

“If I did believe in this shit, I’d be taking deep dives in the Seine right now. I suppose I should be happy we dropped it here,” he fretted, pulling the stick free and poking around the ground some more. “I told Alex to flush the damn thing down the toilet.”

“How,” wondered Lena with dramatic flair, voice sprawling with bewilderment, “the fuck did the key end up here?!”

“Because,” Miles snarked back, “we tossed it here! It’s a fucking love lock. You know those, right?”

A fully saturated sigh of exasperation filled the quiet winter night. “See, if there was a bridge in the vicinity, with a padlock dangling from it, I’d say, hey, whatever. But you said the lock isn’t here. Just the key. And what’s that got to do with dives in a river in France and a fucking toilet? Be specific, Miles! ‘cause I really don’t care, but I kinda do!”

He glared at her. “The love lock shit started in Paris, didn’t it? Aren’t you meant to put your lock there to make it last?”

“Serbia,” she threw in, unsatisfied and impatient. “Started there. Not Paris. But Paris looks prettier on Instagram, right? Eiffel Tower, cheese, all that romantic rubbish? Return to the flush? How…what…why?”

“We forgot to drop…whatever. Who fucking cares! The key in this pond. I want it back, so I can get that fucking lock from Tower Bridge and put it where it’s supposed to go!”

“Trash can?”

“Paris.”

“Serbia!”

“Fuck!”

“Dearest husband of mine, let me be a friend here and advise you. You seem to be in desperate need of advice considering you’re ten centimeters deep in duck shit. If you think putting a piece of scrap metal from one bridge to another will bring Alex back, you should consider psychotherapy. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m a little concerned, that’s all.”

“I don’t think a piece of scrap metal will deliver him back to me. I’m not some fucking idiot, alright? However, I want him back,” he stated with rigorous conviction, underscoring it by stomping his mud-stained boot further into the shit. “I never wanted us to break up in the first place. But we screwed it up. We didn’t do it right the first time around. There’s a ton of shit that we should have done differently. Including this! I don’t believe in this nonsense, but Alex does for some reason. And to demonstrate that next time around, I’m taking his concerns seriously, I’m fucking digging around duck shit to search for a bloody key so I can book a flight to Paris—”

“Serbia,” Lena snipped.

Miles threw a harsh stare her way. The kind that said, ‘if you don’t want your new _Gucci_ boots covered in shit, shut the fuck up!’ “ _Serbia_ ,” he gritted out. “And do it right!”

Her demeanor visibly softened. She let the light dance over the shallow water. “I still want to know what the toilet has to do with any of this. Nevertheless,” conceded Lena, “I will admit that it’s a tad bit romantic and if Alex believes in that shit, your act might actually carry some weight. So…dig on. In the meantime, you can tell me why you’re ruining our night doing this _grand gesture_ , let’s call it that, for somebody you’ve been calling an asshole and a prick for weeks now.”

Miles focused on a new spot by the embarkment, muttering, “He’s still that.”

His heart was still broken. His wounds still hurt. And before he’d even consider apologizing for all the shit that he’d done wrong, he expected a fucking big apology from him for kicking him out in the first place. But, should Alex _ever_ consider reaching out to him, Miles wanted to be ready.

“Miles?” Lena took a step closer toward him. Her tone was much smoother, almost gentle. “You want him back. It’s obvious to everyone. Why don’t you just go to him? Knock on his door, tell him you love him, you know? Get him back. There’s no room for pride when it comes to love. Think about it. You could be happy with him right now. Instead, you’re out here, digging at night, in the dirt, looking for a key that doesn’t matter one bit. Almost as though you’re looking for excuses _not_ to go to him just yet.”

He shook his head. “It’s not about pride. He’s always doing this. The moment things get real, he bolts. If I go to him… Even if we made it work, how am I supposed to know he won’t run again? What if we have a fight? Do I need to call his mother to ask her if he’s hiding in his room? I don’t want him to run _away_ from me. If he wants us to be together, I want him to run _to_ me when things get tough! I want to be his rock. Not the shadow he runs from.”

“Tell him that!”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

“Oh, yes. Definitely no pride-issue at all!”

His jaw ticked. “Can we change the topic? Why do we have to discuss my love life right now?”

“Uh, you’re the one in duck shit? I’d say the topic presents itself.”

“You’re the one holding the torchlight. What’s going on with your boyfriend? How’s Mister _Famous Actor_ doing these days?”

She growled soundly. “Let me put it this way, if he were here, I’d fucking throw him into the pond.”

Miles stopped digging for a moment. “That bad?” He was stunned to hear. He’d known that it was complicated and that it had gotten worse by him more or less forcing Lena into a divorce, but this bad? “Want to talk about it?”

“Tsk, how sweet you are! You _ask_ if I want to? Wow. I’m such a bitch. Never mind. But sure, let’s discuss my miserable life. Why not. What else is there to talk about, right? Well, here’s a short version. I told him I was getting divorced and that he should see it as an opportunity to figure out where he wants our future to go. He made a joke about sex. I told him it wasn’t funny. And then he casually let it slip that he wanted children.”

“With you?” gaped Miles.

Lena crossed her arms with a snort. “Hey!”

“No! Shit, no offense to you. It’s just…with _you_? Has he seen you around children?”

“No, but I can be…friendly with… _them_.”

A scoff from Miles, who resumed his quest for a little silver key. “You can’t even be left alone in a room with them. Katie won’t let you babysit. Jamie hovers nearby whenever you get close to the kid, and even your mother has her doubts. When she suggested grandchildren, it came with the added promise of unlimited babysitting services!”

Lena’s lips took on a sneer. “Jamie and Katie are a bit snobbish when it comes to that little princess of theirs. Just ‘cause I got peevish ‘bout my iPad, I got a scolding from her. It’s ridiculous! Children need boundaries. They can’t barf wherever they want!”

Miles exploded with laughter. “You called their daughter a demon from hell.”

“It. Barfed. On. My. New. iPad!”

“Not on purpose.”

“Says who? Do we know that for sure? If it makes you feel better, I told him I wasn’t ready for children. And that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, since there’s a real chance I might never get ready. I love my freedom.”

“What did he say?”

“We should _both_ think about where we want our future to go.”

“And…?”

She shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t love him. I do. But he told me about his friend’s new house and how they turned the office into a playroom. And when I heard the word ‘office,’ I thought, wow, renovating, what a good idea. And I ordered a new rug for my office. And a new chair. And a table lamp. You should see it, it’s really pretty! It’s got a dimmer, too!”

“It’s okay to not want kids, Lena. It’s not a bad thing.”

“Do you ever want ‘em?”

His shoulder rolled as a small smile flew across his features, only to vanish quickly. “I might have. There was a moment last year… I mean, I never thought that I do. And I was babysitting for Katie and Jamie recently and that didn’t go so well. Long story. Think the kid hates me. Whatever.” He exhaled, the act drawn out, while skimming the surface of the mud-crusted embarkment. “What does it matter now, right? Alex is gone.” He put the stick back into the dirt. And froze. “I’ll be damned!”

“What?”

“Light! Here! Quick!”

She pointed it there. Bent forward. “Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

“You found it? Aaahhhhh!” The light went away again as she jumped with excitement. “Oooh! You found it! Yay! Now what? Will you call him? Let him know? Book a flight?”

Miles picked it up, wiped it clean, then put it into his pocket. “Now,” he said, “I’m going home. To bed. And sleep.”

“Fuck this. You had me buy a whole damn outfit, carry a torchlight all night, confuse me with stories about Paris and toilets, only to go to bed now? Are you fucking kidding me? Where’s the happy ending that this moment leads up to? I had my hopes up!”

“I’ve been up since five a.m., I worked for twelve hours, I got some emails left to check, and I’m fucking tired. I’m going home, I’m taking a shower, and that’s that! If you need a happy ending, read a book.”

“Just for that, you’re paying for the boots.”

“Thanks for helping me.”

“You’re welcome.”

*

“I know that we’re married, but we’re spending way too much time together.” Miles shut the lid of his laptop and blew out a breath of ever-growing irritation. “Fucking put in headphones, will you? I can’t bloody concentrate. And _some of us_ have to work to pay for the fucking lawyer!”

Looking up from the iPad, Lena smiled innocuously. There was an angelic notion to her elegant features and a clarity to her sweet, sparkling eyes that overflowed with kindness. _What a bunch of bullshit_ , Miles thought grimly. She’d perfected the look of innocence. She could fool the best of ‘em into thinking she was naïve and harmless. But one moment of carelessness and she’d charge with the force of a lion and the speed of a panther. His wife pressed ‘pause’, interrupting her round of _Candy Crush_ to meet his eyes. “You seem tense, my love. Anything I can do to help?”

“You could stop calling me that.”

“Uh…nope. Try again.”

He forced himself to smile. It was hollow. Fake. He knew it. She knew it. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“You wanted to dig, not me.”

“I know,” Miles ground out. “I’m saying, I’m understandably tired. The construction company called earlier, informing me that the cost projections can’t be met and that, thanks to ‘unanticipated complications’, which I assume is construction speak for laziness and bad organization, the project will take at least two more months and an extra three million. That killed my mood. Kinda,” he droned sarcastically. “I forgot to set my alarm last night, so I ran late this morning. I have yet to drink my first coffee, I’m pressed for time, you’re here, and Jamie is not. You want to help? Go fucking play your game elsewhere.”

“There’s no elsewhere,” Lena pointed out, lips pinched into a pout. “You used to welcome my distractions.”

“Yes,” Miles agreed, only to add, “when I want to be distracted. Not when I need to focus! And you got your own fucking office!”

“Stop using bad language!”

“I quite agree with that,” a stern voice drilled from the doorway.

Miles buried his face inside his palms, groaning. The day was getting worse by the minute. “Mom. What do you want?”

“Tsk, Miles,” admonished his wife. “Be nice to your mom. Pauline,” she greeted warmly, “have a seat.”

“Or go get coffee,” suggested Miles wistfully. “Get it across the street. Take your time.” He had to work! Didn’t anyone understand?

“Oh, darling, it’s eleven a.m., who drinks coffee now?” She shook her head. Sat down next to Lena. “I won’t stay long. I just came by to drop this off. It’s the certification that came with your award last fall. I had it framed for you!”

The what? Miles glanced at the large rectangular item which she pulled from a blue plastic Ikea bag. His eyes shot up to the wall by the window, where the same certification hung. And he noticed only now that it wasn’t there anymore. When had she taken it away? Why was she walking in and out of his office without anybody stopping her? “It was framed. I know. It hung there for months!”

“In a black frame,” his mother pointed out, as though that explained it all.

It explained nothing. “So?”

“Black didn’t fit your couch.”

“I no longer have a couch.”

“Yes. But you’ll get a new one, won’t you?”

It was like playing a game of bloody Ping-Pong, only, instead of using paddles, it felt as though the ball kept hitting his head. Again, and again, and again. The headache was coming in strong and he had no doubt that he’d suffer from it for a while. “Eventually,” he responded to his mother’s remarks. “I’ll get a new one. I don’t even know what couch I’ll get.”

“Because of it, I had the frame changed. It’s slate grey, now. Fits everything. Well,” she corrected herself, eyes getting reflective, “not everything. But most colors. Why won’t you display the award as well? You deserved it!”

He hated tacky, oversized awards that rewarded behavior for which he really shouldn’t be applauded. “People know I won. Hence the damn certification. I got no room for an award in this office.”

“You got plenty,” Pauline disagreed.

Eyes went to the set of drawers behind his desk. The monstrosity made of glass and wood was shoved into the lowest one, where it decayed between old pens and a broken phone charger.

**September, Last Year**

_“Stuff for the trash,” commented Miles, sneaking a sly, yet bothered look at Alex who sat next to him at the large round table, wearing the same constricting outfit of tux and bow, carrying the same desire to dash and make for the nearest pizza parlor. The award sat in front of him, next to the empty plate, by the wine glass. “It’s fucking big, that’s for sure.”_

_Alex chuckled. “Awarded for Excellence in Human Resources. You should be proud of yourself, Mi. The_ London Chamber of Commerce _thinks very highly of you!”_

_“If they did, I’d have gotten the award for Business of the Year. We employ a very diverse group of people, few of which I’ve hired myself. That’s what the head of HR is for, right? She ought to sit here. But who cares for details!” At the sight of the stage where a different representative of a different company was getting a different award, his voice turned sour. “This kind of shit bothers me, you know. First, the only reason I got invited and not my head of HR is because my name rings better in the press. And second, they make it sound as if hiring somebody who’s gay or whatever is commendable. I don’t care who fucks whom after hours. I want the best people in the field. Not going to display this one.” He nudged the ugly cone and scoffed. “Looks hideous anyway.” Against his thigh, Miles felt movement. Fingers. Trailing gently up and down the leg. His eyes wandered close. His breathing got shallow. His tone was hoarse. “Babe…”_

_“Shh, don’t call me that,” whispered Alex, leaning the tiniest bit closer. “People could hear. What’s going on? Why aren’t you happy about this? Free press, free food, free drinks?” There was amusement in his voice. “Relax. Enjoy the night.”_

_He couldn’t. Not when the night was nothing but a lie and a puff-piece for reporters. “I got an award for hiring people regardless of their sexuality,” Miles muttered, teeth sinking into his lower lip as Alex’s touch got firmer. His entire hand touched him. Heat sank into his skin where they were connected. It rushed everywhere. “And, yet, I’m sitting here, next to you, while you look so fucking good in that tux, and I can’t even fucking kiss you! I want to hold your hand and—”_

_“Lower your voice,” Alex hissed._

_“I don’t want to lower my voice,” snapped Miles. Quietly. He bolted upright, heading for the exit, in desperate need of a smoke._

_Alex caught up with him quickly. Hidden in the back alley behind the hotel, he slipped his hand into Miles’, yet still hiding them between their bodies. “This sucks, yes. But we knew that.”_

_“Doesn’t make it easier,” reeled Miles. With his free hand, he reached up, grazing his love’s cheek with his knuckles. “I want to kiss you in front of people. Just to let people know I’m your boyfriend. I’m selfish like that! I want people to know that you chose me. That you love me. I like being your boyfriend. Knowing that, out of all the people you could have had, you picked me, makes me bloody happy! I love you!”_

_“I love you, too,” assured Alex, bringing their faces closer. Noses touched. “One day, baby.” Lips brushed against another. “We can’t, not now. There are consequences. You know that. Think of that.” After making sure that nobody had stepped into the alley, a move that stretched Miles’ nerves even further toward the breaking point, Alex kissed his lips chastely. “Come on, let’s get those free drinks and make fun of the other winners. Can’t be a good crowd, considering my company isn’t even nominated!”_

_A snort from Miles, who did not look if others were around when he caught Alex’s lips and gave him a kiss that was as far from chaste as a kiss could be. “Maybe you gotta do better next year!”_

_“Maybe the Chamber doesn’t know a good catch when they see one!”_

_Miles kissed him again. He could tell that Alex wasn’t happy about it. His lips were stiff and unwelcoming. His eyes didn’t close like they usually did. A deliberate choice not to enjoy the caress. It spurred Miles’ stubborn side. He prolonged the ending, refused to let up._

_Alex pulled away, but reached for his hands, briefly entwining their fingers. “Stop it, babe. There’re people here that we know. Press. Let’s play nice for a bit. And when we get home…”_

_“I won’t be nice anymore,” hushed Miles directly into Alex’s ear. A naughty promise._

_“Hoping for that,” winked Alex._

**Present** **Day**

Roles reversed.

How had that happened?

Had it happened? Had he been wrong to consider the fallout, as Alex had told him to, all those months ago? He hadn’t intended to say _no_ last January. He’d merely needed a moment to clear his head. To figure out all that needed to be done.

“Know what?” He got up, reached for the framed certificate, and dumped it into the trashcan, into which it didn’t fit. The entire can toppled over, spitting crumpled pieces of paper everywhere. With rolling eyes and a scarcely constrained temper, Miles leaned down, put the entire thing back up, gathered the papers, trashed ‘em anew, and then placed the frame on top of the trashcan. All the while grinding his teeth. He went to the lowest drawer, took out the award, and put it dead center on trash-can mountain. “No more fake shit in this office. They want to congratulate me for making smart choices, let them. But none of this crap!” Miles sat back down, ignored the startled gazes of the two women sitting across from him, gazes he was so damn aware of that he felt put on the spot, and took up the phone. “Doreen, call that magazine. What’s it called? _Attitude_? I’m ready for that intervi—.”

“No,” blurted Lena, not even waiting for him to finish the request. Her index finger flew up. A warning. “Absolutely not!”

He slammed the phone down. “Hell. The. Fuck. Yes!”

She straightened her back, slipping into professional mode. “Let me explain something to you since this is the sort of shit you hired me to do before realizing that I excel at everything else as well. This will _not_ go the way you want it to go.”

Miles leaned back, meeting her threatening eyes with confidence. “You don’t know how I want it to go.”

“I’ll make a bold guess,” his wife stated, snarling the words to display her disapproval, “and say you want it to be the ‘I’m gay, deal with it’-kind of story.”

Miles shrugged. “And? What’s wrong with that?”

“It never goes that way,” she proclaimed. “You’re an app king. Matchmaking genius. Rich guy. White,” she pointed out with snark. “Here’s what the thing will end up being: Rich white guy leaves pretty wife for rich white dude with nice hair. Who cares! Rich people tales.”

Pauline cleared her throat. “He’s not that rich. And I’d argue the genius bit.”

“Mom!”

Lena giggled. “He’s that rich. And I agree about the genius bit. Miles…” Her muscles unstiffened and she smiled his way, something that looked an awful lot like pity, Miles found. “I get what you’re trying to do, alright? But trust me on this. Don’t make yourself the story. Let it go. You want to be gay in public, be gay in public. But don’t sell it. Just _be_. If somebody asks you about it, shrug it off and say ‘whatever.’ Don’t go around and advertise it like it’s some new app.”

That’s not what he wanted to do. His stellar idea now nothing more than a stupid thought, Miles fell from his momentary high and slumped into his chair. Head propped up on one arm, he met her eyes. “I want him to know tha—”

“That you would have said _yes_?” Lena sat back and crossed her legs. “So fucking tell him!”

“He’ll be happy to hear it, too. He’s bloody miserable,” announced Jamie from his spot in the doorway.

“Finally,” Miles exclaimed. “For somebody who bills his hours, you’re fucking late!”

“Those two points lack any logical connection,” Jamie tossed back, curling his lips into a grin. “But yes, I’m late. Please, my master, grace me with forgiveness!”

“Fuck. Off.”

Jamie, cooly, turned from Miles to the two women in the room. “What’s with him?”

“Sexual frustration,” Lena quipped.

Pauline coughed violently. “Lena!”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true! Hey, Jamie. How’s the little stinker?”

“My sweet little princess,” he rephrased, voice stern, “is doing wonderful. Thanks for your phony interest.”

Lena stuck out her tongue, grown-up professional that she was. “You’re welcome.”

“Is that how you usually talk amongst each other?” wondered Pauline, her gaze flying back and forth between Lena and Jamie, only to settle on Miles, toward whom she leaned to ask in confidence, “do they not like each other very much?”

Miles chuckled, taking in the confused looks of his wife and his friend. “Don’t worry, mom. They get along just fine!” His attention returned to Jamie, turning serious. “Got what I want?”

Jamie nodded. “May 8th. My friend working in the department is doing you a favor. Once all documents are in order, he’ll agree, file the paperwork, and reply with the _decree absolute_. He’s off for vacation during the last week of April and the first week of May, so you can’t get it any sooner, but you’re already getting it faster than others. Divorce takes most people at least six months. You’re doing in four. Count yourself lucky.”

“May 8th,” Miles repeated to himself, almost murmuring the date. “Good. Thank you.”

“While he’s here,” Lena mentioned, facing first Miles, then Jamie, then her husband again, “are you sure you don’t want the apartment? You’ve been living in that hotel for months now. You can have your place back. I don’t want it. I mean, it’s not like we shared much space before. But you can have the whole shoebox to yourself!”

“It’s yours, I told you.” Miles didn’t care for the apartment. Not the place, not the money, not the memories. There were very few of them to begin with. For now, the hotel was fine. And one day, when he’d finally figured out what his next steps were, he would consider finding a new home. A real home. Not now. “Sell it, or not, don’t care.” He grabbed his phone from the desk and got up. “Sit here, Jamie. I have to go check on something. Be back in a bit.” With that, he walked out, past his mother, his wife, and his friend, and closed the door to his office behind him.

“Doreen?” Just in case somebody was nearby, he checked over his shoulder. But he and his secretary were alone. He leaned toward her, lowered his voice. “Do me a favor, a personal one? Call Alex’s office, don’t say it’s me, or you…make something up. Don’t ask for Alex. Just…” His fingers were jittery. His palms sweaty. He’d taken his phone with him just to have something to hold. To squeeze. He was whispering now. “Tell his assistant to set an appointment for May 8th. Doesn’t matter what for…like I said, make something up. It must be that day, okay? And don’t tell anybody, please! Not a single person.”

The elderly lady replied with a kind smile, one that brimmed with sympathy. He wasn’t sure, rather doubted, that she truly comprehended why he wanted her to do what he’d asked her to do. He wasn’t convinced that he, himself, even understood. He had no idea what he wanted to say or do once the day arrived. Maybe he’d let the appointment slide and do nothing. But May 8th would be the day he’d be single again for the first time in years. Officially single. Signed and stamped. Who knew? It was still weeks away. Months away. A lot could happen until then, right? “Thanks,” he told her and nodded.

From there on, he made his way out, towards the elevator. The doors chimed open, he stepped inside and pressed the button to the twenty-second floor. A hedge-fund company had resided there until a few weeks ago. Last week, the final boxes had been packed up, the renovation crew wouldn’t arrive until the end of the next one, and until then, the entire floor sat empty. The doors slid open and he got out, made his way around the corner where the lobby used to be. Two old wooden boxes rested there, left behind. He sank down on one of ‘em, to have a seat. He’d discovered the spot last week when the moving crew had caught glimpses of his attention.

For now, this place was his hiding space. Nearly two thousand square meters of empty offices, well-worn carpets, and dusty windows. Miles pulled out his cigarettes and lit one up. What did Jamie mean when he said that Alex was miserable? Why was Alex miserable? He was the one who’d kicked him out. If he didn’t want to be miserable, he wouldn’t have to be. He could just come to him and say, let’s do this again. Miles would be happy to do it again. He’d be more than happy to do every single second again, except the last few when it had all turned to ash.

Glancing at his phone, he shook his head at himself as he switched the screen on and then off. Day after day, he waited for a message from him. In vain. None ever arrived. Did he really think that Alex would get it together and reach out? Why couldn’t he quit him? Why couldn’t he move on? Why did it still hurt so fucking much? “Fuck you, Alex Turner. Why won’t you call?”

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 29 Part 1: **

#

Something thick and acerbic got stuck in the back of Alex’s throat and he realized too late that it wasn’t a concrete object but an emotion. “Leave me,” he ordered, harsh and rude and uncalled for, but Alex didn’t want her to see what he knew was about to happen.

As if she understood, and, in all honesty, he wouldn’t be surprised if she did, Janine left without a single word. The door clicked close. Alex closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and let the tears fall where they did.

#

“He told me he liked me.”

“Imagine that,” mused Miles with an air of superiority that made the hairs on Alex’s neck stand straight. “Somebody tells you that and you? You did what?” His eyes darkened. “Did you walk away? Did you decide that he lied because it was easier that way? Did you watch him leave and–”

At that, he bolted from the bench, feeling the grating edge of Miles’ knife cut through the shredded remains of his heart with cruel precision. “I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me. Don’t you fucking dare accuse me of running!”

“You walked away from me so fast, I had no fucking time to answer!”

#


	29. When It's All Said And Done... Part 1

**#Mid March**

“Didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Tired eyes wandered up the figure of a tall man dressed in an impeccable suit. The tie matched. A vein-marked hand was wrung around the top of a cane carved out of dark wood. He was slim, stricken by age and, apparently, angered by Alex’s lack of reply. “Well,” said the man, who looked familiar. “Won’t you greet an old friend?”

Blinking against the darkness into which he’d escaped, Alex creased his forehead and squinted. Until recognition set in. “Edward?”

“Been a while.” As if to emphasize and to express his regret about that, he knocked his cane against the hard, unforgiving floor. “Come, Turner. Join me and my friends. We have a room in the back. Private. Removed from the commoners.”

His mind was slow tonight. Addled by the expensive bourbon or two that he’d drowned without acknowledging the years it had taken to achieve that singular taste he’d scarcely appreciated. Join him? Him and his circle of aloof friends who no doubt reminisced about the time they watched the _Titanic_ leave Southampton harbor? With a snort, which he too late realized he’d allowed to escape his nose, Alex finally met his eyes. “No…thanks…just wanna sit here and…”

“Do what? Wither away? Leave it to me to do that. It’s happening faster than I like. Move it, Turner. Let’s catch up.”

Oh, why the fuck not. What else did he have to do? Sit here alone? Return to an empty apartment? When had he started to mind being by himself? It had never bothered him before. At least, not before—

Alex drowned the bourbon at once and rose to his feed. Once the trembling inside his legs subsided, he followed Edward further down the back of the bar. “You come here often?” He didn’t really care to know. It was merely a passing curiosity. After all, he’d never run into him before.

Edward strode ahead. “At times. This bar has been here for a good few decades. Spent much of my younger years in these halls. Many a story still hides in the cracks underneath the new paint.” Coming to halt near the backrooms, he touched a hand to a framed image sitting amongst many other framed images. “Recognize him? John Profumo. Nice fella.”

A closer inspection of the picture made it clear that it had been taken years ago. “Looks like one from the fifties.”

“Nineteen-sixty. I was dating an actress.” At that, Edward’s eyes softened. “Beautiful girl. John was seeing a friend of hers. Poor guy. Got tangled up in a bit of a scandal a few years later. Too much was made of that, if you ask me. Let a man enjoy his private life. What’s it to the public? Never mind. I was much closer to your age at that time than I was to mine. Been thinking a lot of the past lately.” He took a few more steps, only to stop once more. “Don’t tell anyone, hear me? But…” Facing him, Alex could see Edward’s lips twitching, as if hiding a smile. “Meeting you? Turns out it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to me. Been enjoying my retirement.”

“Glad to hear.” Six months removed from the stress and the sleepless nights and the self-doubt that working with him had unleashed upon his life, Alex was now in a position to laugh at that without the lingering resentment that had clutched him for far too long after their last encounter. “What a rousing compliment.”

Edward opened the door to a half-lit room filled with couches and fogged with cigar smoke. “Let’s drink to that, shall we?” Meeting the curious gazes of four other men his age, the retired man raised his hand, presenting Alex to his peers. “This, my friends, is the man that made me change my life. Alexander Turner. He’s quite good with the numbers. Frederic,” he enunciated, turning to a man stretched out on a sofa on the far side of the room, “take note. He might be able to do something for your crumbling empire.”

Alex bowed his head in the general direction of everybody.

Frederic waved back with little interest. “’tis not a genius my empire requires. It’s the end of this lunatic invention that is called ‘The Internet’. Bloody nobody is buying shoes in stores anymore. Least of all hand-stitched leather loafers. And stop calling me Frederic,” said he of the thick accent, with a whiff of indignation. “It’s Frederico. Frederico Antonio Marginelli. Born and raised in Milano. Turned English by that bastard.” His eyes aimed for Edward. “He’ll turn everything into something English. Italy has a much brighter past.”

“No history is brighter and more dazzling than that of our sprawling Empire,” corrected a well-rounded man with a good but far from perfect toupee. His right foot was raised and propped against what appeared to be a mahogany coffee table, sturdy and old. Like five out of six people inside this room, thought Alex, smirking on the inside.

“The days of the Empire are over,” alleged Alex as he helped himself to a stiff drink. “These days, the world is divided by fiber-optic lines and taxation-exempt trading routes. The internet is a profitable landscape. And hand-made Italian loafers might find its new home there. Don’t write my services off too soon, Maestro Marginelli. Ma forse posso aiutarti.”

“Brits,” snorted Frederico. “Always boasting.”

 _Boasting?_ _Been a while since I’ve done that,_ guessed Alex. How oddly pleasing it was to be amongst company. He took a seat on one of the couches and leaned back, enjoying the comfortable couch and the well-aged drink which he sipped and not guzzled, opposed to before.

Somebody else chimed in, catching his attention. “You’re that Wunderkind my nephew told me ‘bout. Aren’t you? What was it again? Alexander? You collaborated with him two years ago. On a venture to acquire a rival in his field.”

“Well,” Alex put forward, allowing a little smile to slip free, “that sums up what I do on a daily basis. I need more specifics.”

“Daniel, that’s his name,” the stranger supplied immediately, with a notable shade of discontent. “Told me you advised him to divorce his wife in order to make a profitable investment.”

Oh, that time. “Yes,” admitted Alex with a good amount of regret. “Couldn’t be helped. He told me he considered divorce and that his wife was co-owner of his company. I suggested he finalize the private issues and expand _after_ the fine print of their separation was sorted out. Worked out, didn’t it? She parted with a good sum of money, he made the list of _Most Successful_ in 2015, if I recall correctly.” Yes, there was that unfortunate moment in his office, when he’d too arrogantly made it clear that love had no part in business. When he’d said that love, which was a perennially unwelcome emotion, would never lead to any good.

How wrong he’d been.

How right he’d been.

“How’s he doing these days?”

“Better.”

There was an undercurrent of repressed acrimony again. That much was obvious to Alex, and it sparked his curiosity. “Better how?”

“He and his ex-wife have recently reconciled. Told me he’d regretted listening to you.”

“Then he’s not worth the deal Alex worked out for him,” announced Edward, with the support of two other men, one of those being Frederico, who nodded emphatically. “He got rich, did he not? What’s he doing blaming Alex for his personal failures.”

“Hear, hear,” added the Italian. “A man has to think of his legacy, not his heart.”

“A man, most importantly, has to remove his feelings from his thinking. What’s it to Daniel if Alex suggested divorce or not,” threw Edward into the room, with the kind of countenance that dared anyone to disagree with him. “If he had wanted to remain married, he should have done so. If all it took to make him quit his marriage was Alex’s suggestion, then he’s not just weak but also a fool.”

Daniel’s uncle clearly disagreed, evident by the sneer that clung to his features. But this wasn’t the room he’d win over by arguing his case. This was a room of antiquated opinions and wisdom that long stopped being applicable in the real world.

Whereas the others kept on going, talking themselves into a frenzy in Alex’s defense, Alex himself sat silently, barely listening. He’d have a call to make, first thing tomorrow. If his time with Miles had taught him anything, then this: feelings were not the enemy of the wise, but their most cherished ally. And if Edward held Alex’s actions to be applaudable, then wasn’t that the first and most forward argument to the opposite? Sitting here, surrounded by stoic men who argued as on his behalf, he remembered something else as well. He wasn’t voiceless.

“I was wrong, then.”

Edward snapped his gaze toward him. “You were not.”

“I was,” Alex stated with a firm voice, inviting no dissent. “I crossed a line that day, clearly. Daniel came to me for financial advice. I interfered with his private life, neither knowing nor caring for the details of his personal affairs, and that was a step too far.”

Wasn’t that what he always complained to his mother about? That she was meddling? Wasn’t that what had played a part in the ending of his own relationship? The opinion of others?

“Glad we agree,” the uncle said.

With a curt nod, Alex stressed that, “He can expect my apology tomorrow.”

“Takes one to own up to his mistakes.” Daniel’s uncle returned to his drink and the paper folded out over his lap. “Appreciate it.”

“Don’t be a fool,” hissed Edward Alex’s way, affronted. “You made the right call. You did what you were hired to do.”

“I did not. And regardless of how you feel, how I choose to rectify my mistakes is up to me.” For the first time in too long, he was convinced that he was doing the right thing and it helped immensely that it was something Edward disagreed with. No more claws of doubt marked his skin. As if slowly regaining his foothold after stumbling and toppling through his days for weeks, months possibly, Alex was surprised by the clarity and conviction he heard in his own words. There had been times when he’d forgotten how loud and unafraid his voice could be. “I don’t work for you anymore. I don’t need your approval.”

It was exhilarating, in a sense. Freeing.

“You never wanted my approval,” Edward cut threw Alex’s new-found spirit with something that Alex was startled to decipher as bitterness. “Never sought it out. You wanted my concession.”

Genuinely engrossed, Alex faced him, asking, “What’s it to you now? Are you that desperate to have me bow to you?” What else could it be that the man wanted but to have his perceived superiority saluted? “Do you need my… _what_? Adoration?”

Edward emptied his glass of fine whiskey as if it was cheap wine. “Respect,” he uttered. “You never respected my accomplishments.”

“I gave half a year to your accomplishments,” Alex countered sharply, biting out the words. Time he could have spent with Miles. “Don’t say—”

“You gave it to the money you made in the end. Let’s not forget what was in it for you.”

At this point, neither one cared for the company they were in. “Money _we_ made.”

“Money isn’t respect. For over half a year I had to sit back and listen to you arrogantly belittle my life’s work, sneering at a business that may no longer matter to the world we live in, but one that used to define the lives of a generation. One I was part of. Age isn’t a flaw, Turner. It’s an achievement. What do you have to show for the clock ticks down? A list of companies that others built and which you sold off to the highest bidder? All I wanted was for you to see that what you offered like a rotten corpse to the vultures was something I dedicated my life to. Maybe it meant less than a scratch to you, but it meant all to me.”

Smarting from the insults thrown his way, Alex’s temper snapped. “If it meant so fucking much to you, how come to ran it into the ground so thoroughly?”

“Because,” seethed Edward, words cold as ice, “I’m human, and humans make mistakes. Unlike you, though, I don’t cower in the face of dissenting opinion. I don’t act like a fucking sissy. I accept the consequences and keep walking forward. Apologizing has never changed a thing in the world. This is why it entirely escapes my understanding of why you would want to apologize to his dimwitted nephew! That damned idiot made a choice and instead of owning up to his own deeds, he and his uncle blame you! Come on, Turner. Don’t you get the absurdity of that?”

“If I hadn’t told hi—”

“If you hadn’t told him to make a choice, he’d have lost the money _and_ the wife,” concluded Edward with thorough disregard for Daniel’s uncle who sat in earshot. “You didn’t force his hand. I wanted your respect because, despite your callous contempt for other people’s legacies, you understand what it takes to get something done. You and I do what needs to be done. We want something, we get it. We _don’t_ apologize for that.”

Not faltering, but losing his momentum and his almost blind need to fight him on principle, Alex sat back and stared at his no longer cold drink for a second time that night. “ _South London Steel_ was an institution. And I…” He breathed in and out, pacing his reply and calming his temper, to met the retired tycoon’s eyes squarely. “I wanted to be the one to facilitate the sale _because_ of that. I always respected the company and its history and its legacy.”

“But you didn’t respect _me_ ,” Edward surmised with woeful resignation. Reaching up, tugging the knot of his tie loose, he groaned. “Bloody hot in here. Much has been said and, once again, you got the better of me, Turner. You made me lose my composure. Fellas, let’s call it a night. Lest we say anything me might, after all, regret in the morning.” Unbuttoning the top of his shirt, he stretched his neck, then gripped his cane. “Turner. For what it’s worth, you’re the rare breed of man that doesn’t mind arguing with me. I like that. ‘til next time.” With that, he walked out.

Two days later, Edward Montford III. was dead.

“Heart attack,” muttered Janine, sitting in one of the visitor’s chairs inside Alex’s office, the _Times_ perched on her lap. “Can you believe it? The paper says he’s been experiencing heart problems for almost a year now. You think that’s the reason he agreed to the sale in the end?”

Eyes shot up. Alex frowned. “What do you mean?”

“His company has been struggling for years, hasn’t it? I’ve seen the numbers. _South London_ has been skirting the edges of financial ruin for half a decade. It didn’t get worse. It _was_ bad, like, always had been. Why now, I’m wondering. Maybe the old guy knew that his days were numbered, and he wanted to spare his family the messy aftermath of a post-mortem inheritance drama. Could be, right?”

Could be, yes.

Alex leaned back and swived his chair around, staring out the window. The sun was nowhere to be seen. The sky was clogged with mighty rainclouds. Endless shades of dark hung above the city as if every billowed cloud of smoke ever puffed out of _South London Steel’s_ imposing chimneys had gathered above the London skyline to pay its respects to the man who’d kept the furnaces going for so long.

Something thick and acerbic got stuck in the back of Alex’s throat and he realized too late that it wasn’t a concrete object but an emotion. “Leave me,” he ordered, harsh and rude and uncalled for, but Alex didn’t want her to see what he knew was about to happen.

As if she knew, and, in all honesty, he wouldn’t be surprised if she did, Janine left without a solitary word of protest. As the door clacked close, Alex closed his eyes for a second, swallowed hard, and let the tears fall where they did.

He’d miss him. That damned bastard.

He wasn’t done fighting with him, yet.

He wasn’t done saying everything there was to say and he sure as hell knew that Edward hadn’t yet said everything that he’d been meaning to toss his way.

He hadn’t been ready for him to die.

Not yet.

With no aim, he let his sight travel across the room, mindlessly roaming the objects in its path. On the wall, by the couch, next to the window, hung his one of his many degrees. God knew why he put it up there. What ridiculous display of arrogance and elitism.

“I lack the fancy degree,” Janine had once told him.

As if hers meant less than his.

If anything, hers meant more. He’d had privilege on his side. Good connections, thanks to his parents, had assured him a spot in the best schools and that had yielded more connections and more opportunities. He’d lucked out. He’d studied hard, too. She’d fought harder, no doubt.

Next to that, a little further to the left, was a framed picture of some old men and he stood in the middle. The first deal he’d ever made as head of his own company. How proud he’d once been of that. Thinking back to it now, it was a stupid, pintsized sale that had been all but put down in writing by the time he even entered the scene. He’d done little else but reap the fruits of people who’d come before him. It was hardly worth the frame it lived in.

A large clock hung from the wall that faced his desk. Vintage, or so he’d been told. He’d long since lost his trust in interior designers. Between dried tears, a small grin flew to his lips at the memory.

“Vintage,” the woman had gushed, eyes stretched wide with excitement. “Once attached to one of the steel beams at _Gare du Nord_ in Paris. Very expensive, yes. But a real piece of history. And it’ll look _tres manificique_ up that…white wall of yours. Well, it won’t stay white. I’ve already ordered velvet tapestry and…”

Velvet tapestry.

Designer-speak for _fucking expensive_ and _ugly as shit_. It had arrived, it had taken the crew half a week to mount, and it had left less than a month later. Mold. Thanks to the wrong foundation and application technique. After that, the grey wallpaper had arrived and stayed. The clock sat lonely up there. He sincerely doubted that thing had ever seen the inside of a train station, let alone seen anything French – real or fake.

Underneath it, on top of his plain couch which served its purpose for years now, lay a single marigold colored pillow. It had arrived in the fall of last year, wrapped in a large box, delivered by FedEx express, with a personal note attached to it.

“It’s big and cushy and comfortable. Spotted it and thought of you. And it matches my bright orange sheets. For your naps. Love, M.”

He couldn’t toss it away, or lock it away, as he’d done with everything else that Miles had brought into his life. The pillow was fucking comfortable and he truly loved sinking his overwrought head into it during busy days, just to catch a few minutes of quietness and rest. And also, it was the one thing he’d left in his life which still smelled of him, thanks to all the times that he’d napped on it with him, arm in arm.

God, how he missed him.

They’d recently crossed the three-month marker of being broken up. He still remembered the day they’d celebrated three months of being together. Well, the second celebration of that day, after the one Miles had rung in early. They’d taken a long and lazy stroll to Tower Bridge, put up their lovelock, then kissed. And because the kiss had turned into a ravishing moment in the middle of a busy work day dead-center on one of London’s busiest traffic spots, they’d been honked at so many times that they’d succumbed to laughter, and promptly forgotten to toss the key off the bridge. Back at home, Alex had realized that he still carried the key inside his pocket.

“Flush it down the toilet,” Miles had suggested.

Alex had gaped in shock. “That’s not how this works.”

“The point is for the key to not be near the lock, right? What’s a better way to get rid of it than to do that? Come on, I’ll kiss you while you flush. To make it more romantic.”

“Out of curiosity, when you and Lena got married,” Alex had asked, hands propped against his waist, and brows arched in jest, “did it happen in a window-less backroom somewhere? Were you wearing sweats and dirty socks?”

“If that’s your way of asking whether or not I have a knack for romance, I’ll have you know that yes, I do.” Miles had grabbed his head, laid one on him, hasty and full of fire, only to pull back and smirk. “Just haven’t discovered it yet.” He’d stuck out his tongue, chuckled, and clutched his hand. “If you want to get technical, while I did suggest marriage to Lena, Jamie was the one doing the actual proposing. All that legal shit and so on. And the day of the wedding – not the one for my parents, but the one where the contract was signed – I wore Chucks and she wore flip flops. Come on, there’s a duck pond nearby. Let’s toss it there.”

“How did I ever fall in love with you?”

Miles had tossed him a sexy wink. “I’m hot.”

He was so much more than that.

Alex passed the pond often. It was shallow and small and each time he did, he paused and looked, trying to spot the key, wondering if he had washed up against the embankment. He’d yet to find it. Sometimes he mused if tossing it there had started the ball rolling and set the groundwork for their ending. It had not, of course. But…well, sometimes, a guy got to think, right?

Somebody knocked on his door. “Mr. Turner?” His newest assistant’s head appeared through the barely ajar door. “Is it…can I…”

He waved a hand. “Step inside already.”

“Er, this just arrived by messenger.” He handed over a black envelope. As soon as he was done, he scrambled away. One would think the guy was scared of him.

Rolling his eyes, sighing heavily, Alex read the letter. Or, rather, the card. Simple, yet elegant. The invitation to Edward’s funeral. Tomorrow.

“Ryan,” Alex called out and tapped his fingers against the desk with impatience.

“Yes, Sir?”

Without looking up, not ready for prolonged eye-contact with anybody, Alex kept his gaze on the vintage clock. “Call Cindy over at _Tom Ford_ and let her know I need a black two-piece suit read for pick-up tomorrow morning at eight. She’s got my measurements. Tell her to pick a tie as well. Cancel all my appointments for tomorrow as well. There’s a phone conference scheduled for later – push it to Thursday. Tell my mother I won’t make it to dinner tonight. There’s a contract that needs to be delivered ‘til midnight tonight. Make sure that happens.” He got up and shrugged his jacket on. “Make sure there’s a messenger at the ready to pick up and deliver the suit. I need it by nine at the latest. I need a car at ten sharp, a.m.,” he highlighted, just in case Ryan wouldn’t get it, “and call Sally and ask her if she’s invited to the funeral as well and if not if she wants to join me. Text me after that. Got that?”

Ryan nodded, still busy scribbling down the details.

Switching his computer off, then grabbing his phone, Alex rounded the desk. “I’m going home.” His eyes were motionless, glued to the watch until he furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s not running anymore.”

“What’s not?” asked Ryan without looking up from his notepad.

Alex nodded toward the clock on the wall. “It stopped. Don’t know when. Just realized it. Have it fixed, will you? Know what, better yet, get rid of it. Keep it, take it, sell it, don’t care. Just get it out of here. For the moment, I’m done with time.”

It was slipping away too fast at any rate.

**#The Next Day**

He hated funerals.

Sitting in the back of the massive cathedral, squeezed into one of the empty benches, he took in the sight. Far in the front, people in outrageously expensive outfits mixed and mingled, shedding tears over somebody Alex doubted they’d ever truly known. From what he’d gathered from the whispered remarks that wafted through the echoing halls as people passed by the first hundred or so seats were reserved for family and close friends.

One hundred seats. What outrageous number that was. If he counted all the family members with whom he was close enough to warrant an invitation to his funeral, he might be able to reach ten. Fifteen at most. And that included spouses. Close friends? Well, if he applied that term generously, he could stretch the number up to twenty. More than that was insane. And who wanted that many people at one’s funeral anyway?

He’d be dead. He wouldn’t care. As far as he was concerned, funerals this size were nothing but one last display of power and influence. _Look how many people showed up for me_ , the dead seemed to ask.

 _Well,_ thought Alex, _look how many people showed up to make sure you’re really dead!_

The steady influx of guests slowed down and before long the doors closed. Most rows were filled, save the last few. He was actually glad to be sitting in the back, even though Edward’s wife had offered him a spot in the middle of the audience. He refused to call them mourners. Here, in the back, he could be by himself. He wouldn’t have to watch himself or his emotions. A part of him was, after all, worried that the mere act of a final goodbye would get to him.

Alex wasn’t sure if it was really the fact that the old prick had died that had undone him yesterday. He had an inkling that having parted on the worst of terms had played a part in his reaction. Spoken and unspoken words still hung in the air, fresh, like water clung to the ground after a rain. And they’d remain there, for a long time. Death was awful not because it was the end to the one who’d perished, but because it stole from those left behind the chance to get their last word in.

And fuck it, he wasn’t bloody done cursing and insulting and berating and correcting and…

_Oh, for fuck’s sake!_

Alex scrambled for a tissue.

“Here.”

“Thanks.” He took the white paper tissue from the man sitting next to him, dabbed his eyes, then froze. His chest swelled. He felt constricted, unable to take a full breath. His throat was dry. His tears, coincidentally, dried up at lightning speed. Unmoistened lips slowly slipped apart as he carefully, with hesitation, turned his head to his right. “What…” He swallowed hard. His voice was raspy. His tongue felt like sandpaper. “Why are you here?”

“To pay my respects.” Long legs bent at an almost awkward angle, Miles no doubt sat uncomfortably on these plain, wooden benches that the latter half of the cathedral was equipped with. His suit, tailored to perfection, didn’t distract from the dark spots beneath his eyes. His usually cropped-short hair had grown out, still cut and styled, but slightly longer.

Alex had the worst urge to run his fingers through it. It had been more than three months that he’d last seen him and he hadn’t aged a day. But he looked tired and drained and – had he lost weight? No, he quickly scolded himself, he would not care. He _did not_ care. Miles had left him. Miles didn’t love him. Miles had walked away from forever, never looking back.

And Alex would not forgive him for that by being concerned for his wellbeing.

“Respect?” How he hated that word all of sudden. Memories clung to it. “You scarcely knew him.” Remembering where they were, he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Does it matter how well you knew somebody?” Miles barely heaved his tone above a hushed breath. “I knew him. I spoke to him. Regardless of what I may think of him as a person, he was a father and a husband and a friend to many. He was a boss and an employer. He dedicated his life to something. People cared for him. People admired him. Some even feared him.” At that, the far sides of his lips tilted up a little and because he wasn’t the type of person who feared anybody, it was only natural that the idea amused him. “You honor that by showing up and tipping your hat one last time. That’s respect.”

Was this what the funeral was about?

“Then what the hell am I doing here?”

“Al?”

He felt sick. Worse than he’d ever felt before. As if a noose was wrapped around his neck, getting tighter and tighter, making it impossible to breathe. Frantically pulling on his tie, vaguely attempting not to cause a commotion, Alex slipped out of the row and hurried toward the small exit door at the side, closest to him. Just in time, outside, he tore the tie off, jerked the neck buttons apart, and gasped for air. In and out. In and out. Deep lunges. Over and over.

It wasn’t until a warm hand began to run over his back, up and down, that he slowly regained control over his emotions.

“You okay?”

Of course, it was Miles. Who else, right? Who, if not the guy who made a fucking show of not giving a fuck in the first place? Alex all but jumped forward, out of his reach as his voice, no longer restrained by polite manners, hissed out a clear warning that set the tone for the unfolding conversation. “Don’t you touch me!”

Collected to the hilt, Miles motioned toward a spot a few feet away. “Come on, there’s a park behind the building. Away from the press that’s lurking around. Let’s find a bench and sit down.”

It was grating to hear Miles talk as if it was a bloody everyday occurrence to run into each other and have a chat. “You go. Do what you want. You always do. I j—”

“ _You_ walked away from _me_ , Alex. Not the other way around.”

_What?_

What fucked up recollection did he have of past events?

Alex all but gawked in wide-eyed shock at his ex-boyfriend, who shielded his eyes as he gazed heavenward.

“Bloody hot today.” With that, Miles shrugged his jacket off, hooked one finger underneath the collar, and flung it over his shoulder. “Think Edward went to hell, fired the place up, and enjoys a good, old chuckle seeing us cloaked in black and sweating like pigs?”

Alex wiped his face, his sweaty, confused, totally stupefied face. Straightening up, he followed the path toward the park without looking back. “There better be some trees and shadows. Hell?” he asked, responding to Miles’ earlier remarks. “What happened to respect?”

“I tipped my hat, so to speak? Job’s done. I can let my personal opinions get the better of me, now. What about you? What did you mean before you ran out of there?”

They found a bench and Alex sat down, stretching his legs wide, and leaning back to catch a moment of rest. He didn’t want to tell him. Miles had no right to know. But who else was there with whom he could talk? Who else would understand? The thought made him angry and he glared at Miles, who sat down next to him. Why did he have to be the one to _get_ him? Why did he have to be the one that always knew exactly how Alex felt about certain things? Why did he have to be the world’s most empathetic guy out there? Why couldn’t he be an asshole, worthy of hate and disdain? Why couldn’t Miles do the decent thing and make it easy for Alex to fall out of love with him?

Placing his forearm across his eyes, shielding himself from the rays of the sun that peeked through the trees that carried no leaves yet, he rolled his shoulders as the words slipped out, desperate to escape his conscience. “Few days ago, I was out. Ran into Edward. Anyway, we got to talking and one word let to another and…he said some pretty bad shit and you know me,” Alex allowed with a rare twinge of self-awareness. “Can’t ever let anyone have the last word. This time…he did.”

“You’ve always liked him.”

Had he ever snorted harder? Alex moved the arm away just to scowl at Miles’ compassionate reply. “You insane? I’ve hated—” Now that he was dead, the word suddenly took on another level of severity and Alex didn’t like it anymore. “I’ve…he…we’ve had our differences. We’ve fought tooth and nail. I did _not_ like him. You _know_ that!”

“You never liked what he stood for. You detested his eccentricity, his vices, probably. But it’s not a weakness to admit that you like somebody you don’t agree with. You can like somebody and not like his traits at the same time, Alex. You liked me and you hated that I was married. People can hold more than one emotion at the same time. You admired the guy. It’s why you were so bloody eager to fight with him. There was somebody worthy of an argument. Somebody who could hold his own against you. I was there for a lot of it. All those times that you could have walked away and never did. You apologized to him. You got yourself a fake girlfriend, dressed up nicely, and went to his summer garden party where you faced your greatest weakness – your own ego – and you struck a deal with him.”

“To get rich,” bit Alex back, sitting upright with perked ears, listening to Miles distort history. “To land my sale. To get my cut of that cake!”

“To take a year off? Cruise around on a yacht?” Miles shook his head, not buying any of that. “Your apartment cost what? Two million? Three? The cars inside your garage? Totaled up, that’s another half a million? You got money in the bank. Plenty. Pretend all you want. If you wanted to take a year off, you could have done it at any given time, Al. Do better than that!”

“Maybe,” snapped Alex, “it was less about the money and more about the challenge. Maybe, I wanted to see if I could win one this big.”

“No doubt about that.” At last, Miles met his eyes. “And maybe you wanted to prove to the old man that you’re everything he hoped you to be!”

“Like what? Cold and ruthless?”

“Somebody worthy of respect. What was it that he said that threw you? What’s that last word that he got in?”

Alex was still stuck on Miles’ words. Had it been that? Had it never been about the money? As he mulled that over, he recalled that he’d been asked a question, and since he was so preoccupied with _thinking_ , he had no capacities left to filter his reply. Therefore, it came out unedited. “He told me he liked me.”

“Imagine that,” mused Miles with an air of superiority that made the hairs on Alex’s neck stand straight. “Somebody tells you that and you? You did what?” His eyes darkened. “Did you walk away? Did you decide that he lied because it was easier that way? Did you watch him leave and–”

At that, he bolted from the bench, feeling the grating edge of Miles’ knife cut through the shredded remains of his heart with cruel precision. “I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me. Don’t you fucking dare accuse me of running!”

“You walked away from me so fast, I had no fucking time to answer!”

“All you had to say was _yes_!”

“And I would have said it,” Miles blustered back. He, too, was standing up now. “But I needed a fucking moment to say it! I needed a fucking moment to make the choice to leave my wife! I needed a fucking moment to make the choice to come out and face the world as a gay man. I needed a fucking moment to let it sink in that _you_ wanted to spend the rest of your life with _me_. One fucking moment, Alex. That’s all I needed. But when I took that moment, you looked at me, and you made up your mind, and _you_ told _me_ that _I_ didn’t want that. You jumped to a fucking conclusion without giving me the benefit of the doubt. You’ve done it for as long as I’ve known you. You fucking ran home to your parents after you kissed me for the first time, for fuck’s sake!”

“Because I screwed up and I was embarrassed and I fucking didn’t know what else to do! I didn’t know how to react. What to say. I didn’t know how to fucking look you in the eyes, Miles!”

“Did you ever even notice that I didn’t pull back that night?”

“What?”

“That night, on the floor, by the couch. I didn’t pull back, Alex. In the pool, last summer, before you didn’t speak to me for days, I wanted to kiss you. And if you hadn’t dashed away, I would have. The last night before I left for San Francisco when we fell asleep in the same bed, I’d have kissed you back if you had made the first step. In the shower, when you made your move, you only went so far. You dared me into kissing you. In New York, when we stepped out of the elevator, I charged forward. I’d have kissed you in front of your parents and in front of mine. I’d have kissed you in front of the world if you had let me. When you asked me to be with you forever, I was fucking awestruck! For the first time since I’d known you, you made the first step. You want to know why I chose Tuesday as our first day as a couple, and not Monday? _You_ asked _me_ to be your boyfriend.” By the time he was done, Alex saw the tears brimming in Miles’ eyes. Until the latter turned around. “I didn’t run away, Alex. All I needed was a moment.”

.

.

** Spoiler Ch. 29 Part 2 **

#

The sound of a door being unlocked made his heart beat faster, thudding away in anxiousness. His hands were sweaty, his mouth ran dry, and no matter how hard he tried to control his body, it refused to calm down. The heavy entrance door swung inward. Words prepared ahead of time, Alex was about to jump into his speech when a pair of fine, blue eyes blinked his way. 

Female eyes. “Hi there?” 

Was he on the wrong floor? “Uh…looking for Miles!” 

The eyes widened. The rest of her became visible as she fully stepped into the doorway. Only when her mouth twitched into what Miles had once called the world’s most dangerous grin did Alex make the connection. “You’re Lena.” 

“We meet at last.” 

#

“Fuck!” Alex swung around, threw his head back, and heard the dull thud as it met the metal. It was a little painful, but not nearly as painful as it should be. As Alex deserved it to be. 

The elevator arrived. 

#


	30. Chapter 29 Part 2: When It's All Said And Done...

**#Alex**

Alex wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he’d not moved an inch from that park bench in a long while. The sun, far from showing its might this early in the spring – or late in the winter, depending on one’s perspective – was bright enough to cast the day in blinding light, and he squinted through the glairiness that surrounded him, absentmindedly observing the people that wandered by. If he believed in God or any kind of spiritual or supernatural existence, he’d be tempted to think that the rays carried more intensity than on any other day. Almost as though some entity wanted him to see something and decided he needed all the help he could get and that included an HD Ultra 4K view of the world.

Thinking about it was enough to make him roll his eyes. Considering his current state of mind, he was barely able to process _technicolor_. Anything more than that was just punishment.

His encounter with Miles had left him depleted. Unprepared to run into him in the first place, he’d gotten steamrolled by his perceptions of respect and his nonsensical illusions that Alex was the one that had left him when, in reality, Miles had been the one to walk away. If Miles had needed a fucking minute, as he’d said, why hadn’t he called the next day? Why hadn’t he told him so? Why hadn’t he simply asked him for one?

No.

The memories, months old, were still fresh on his mind and he saw in front of his inner eyes how Miles walked out the door that fateful day, not looking back, not hesitating, just exiting. There had been no tremble in his steps. No uncertainty of his intent. Miles had left, plain and simple.

And who the fuck was he to lecture Alex about ‘respect’?

Who the hell was Miles Fucking Kane, huh?

What bloody asshole was he to accuse Alex of liking Edward? Didn’t he listen to himself when he’d recalled being there for most of their interactions? Did he forget how Alex had struggled with the fear of becoming the kind of person Edward represented? The mere act of reflecting about now it was enough to get his blood back to the boiling point. For crying out loud, Miles had held him inside his arms as Alex had confessed that he didn’t want to be a man controlled by his work; one far removed from the people he loved. How could he even believe for a second that there was a single side to Edward that Alex liked?

He felt nothing but disgust for the man.

“Alexander?”

Eyes shot up. “Misses Montford?” He rose to his feet and gulped down his acrimonious thoughts. Making an effort to soften the stark lines on his face, to express grief and not anger, his lids lowered, and his voice took on a gentler shade. “It was a beautiful service.” He was sure of it, despite having missed almost the entire event. “He’d have approved of it.”

“Nice of you to say so.” The fragile lady touched a hand to his arm, a gesture of kindness. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again after today. The lawyers came by last night. You can imagine. Inheritance. All that.” Amid all that sadness that clung to her, weighing down her shoulders, she still managed to hold her head high and keep her resolute composure. Alex admired that. “There will be an official reading of the will at some point later this week. He’s mentioned you and while no doubt the official summons will reach in time, I saw you just now and decided to tell you in person.”

The bloody bastard had put his name into the will? “Er…” Clearing his throat, Alex wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My late husband considered you in his last wishes. I’ve been told he left you a letter as well. You needn’t be there, of course. I can’t force you to appear for the gathering. But you will have to appear in front of the notary in person, in the company of a witness. If you cannot make it, I ask you to find time for it as soon as possible. The will can only come into effect when everybody has accepted his or her inheritance and we’d like to get this settled soon. It’s a rather tedious affair.”

He nodded briefly, still trying to wrap his head around it. “Yes, um. Of course, I’ll be there.”

“I appreciate that.” The widow offered a grateful, yet no less gloomy smile. “Thank you.”

“Misses Montford.” A man in his middle ages appeared on the outskirts of the park, calling for her attention. “The casket— um, everything is prepared. We’ll depart for the graveyard, now. Shall I bring the car around or—”

“No, Baker, ‘tis quite alright. I’ll be there momentarily.”

With a nod, he slipped away.

The smile returned to her face, and Alex dared to say it carried just the barest fraction of levity. “I wasn’t supposed to sneak away. Everyone expected me to follow the casket as it was being carried out of the cathedral. The way it’s usually done. A solemn procession. But I couldn’t. I didn’t come looking for you, either,” she admitted speedily. “I…” A heavy breath, uneven, fell from her lips. “I just needed a minute. So, I stole myself a minute.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. Quietly. Almost ashamed to be enjoying a laugh at this hour, in this company, Alex cut if off in a hurry. “Appears people do that some time.”

Lightheartedness, it occurred to him then, during such a time was a trickster. For when it had fooled you into thinking you had shed the last of your tears, it disappeared, and you plunged back into that hole of misery, no longer prepared for the pain that awaited you at the bottom.

Tears wet Misses Montford’s eyes and Alex felt them prickling his own ones as well.

“Toward the end, he told me nearly every day that I’ve acted every bit the wife he had always wanted by his side. He used that word. _Acted._ As though I’ve given a lifetime to a role, behaving a certain way to fulfill an obligation, or, rather, my purpose in life. His world was all about viewpoints and impressions. I think at some point he forgot that people simply _are_ and not _act_ and that we’re a layered bunch, a complicated book, if you want, not a single sheet of bullet points. I know the two of you had a falling out. Maybe he’s said something to the opposite, but he cared deeply for you. Know that.” The world’s smallest smile gracing her face became crooked. “If he knew I’d slipped away from the service, opening myself up to gossip and rumors which are indubitably circling as we stand here – people wondering where I went, why I left – he’d be most upset. He wouldn’t want that image of perfection getting stained.” Shaky fingers dabbed salty droplets away. “Well, we are all little rebels at heart, aren’t we?” Collecting herself with the quickness and grace of somebody who’d given her life to honing that ability, she lifted her gaze and met his. “Come now. Are you in need of a ride to the burial ground?”

Alex swallowed the lump in his throat. “Er, no. But thank you very much for thinking of me at this moment.”

She bowed her head. “’til next time.”

The words…

As she disappeared, taking measured and careful steps, knowing full well that the place that awaited them was final and should never be rushed toward, he fumbled the paper tissue from his pocket and wanted to punch himself for crying so goddamn often these days. For heaven’s sake, he could count the number of times that he’d cried in the last ten years on one hand. But twenty-seventeen was shaping up to be a year that would shake things up and not in a good way!

He blew his nose.

Bloody water fountain that he’d morphed into, he really should have brought his own tissues. This one was getting damper by the minute.

Alex fished his out his phone and dialed home.

“Sweetheart, is that you? Oh, what a marvelous surprise. It’s been too long that you called,” informed him his mother, deploying her ever-present gift for complimenting and admonishing his actions at the same time. “When Gary called to cancel last night’s dinner—”

“Ryan,” he noted. “Gary quit.”

“Who is Ryan?”

“My assistant. The one who called to cancel.”

“Why did Gary quit?”

Alex snorted. “If I knew. Something about a hostile work environment or whatever. Beats me.” Inconvenience. That was the sole issue he had with that. “Now I have to train yet another new one.”

“Were you rude to him?” He heard the warning in her tone. The disapproval. Almost thirty-one years old and still not above the occasional scolding from his mother…

“If I was, he deserved it. And if he quit because of it, then it was for the better.”

“Nonsense. But you didn’t call to discuss secretaries, did you? How are you, my dear little boy? You sound off. Is something troubling you? Is your nose runny? Are you catching a cold? Shall I drop by, is that why you canceled last night?”

“No, no, it’s not – somebody died. Somebody that…I’m at a funeral.”

“Oh, Alex. Let me turn the tv off.” There was rustling on the other end, then silence. “Tell me everything.”

“Really, mom, there’s nothing to tell. It’s not a big deal!” Eyebrows shot into furrows, full of remorse. “No, that came out wrong. Um…we weren’t close, me and…anyway. You and dad are fine, right? I know you are. You’d have said something.” Fuck those bloody tears. Shit fucking hell! What the bloody fuck was wrong with him?! “Forget what—”

“Your dad and I are fine,” stated Penny with much conviction, and full of reassurance. “And you’d be the first to know if anything were to change. Don’t you worry your precious mind, my boy. All’s good. Better than that. Gosh, if anything, things are too fine, if that can be the case.” A note of annoyance made it through the phone. “Your father has decided that this rainy monster of a month, which has exactly one or two sunny days, and none more, is the perfect time to paint the garden fence. White drops of paint are all over my precious forsythia, Alex. It’s a catastrophe. And the weather forecast, how else could it be, announced rain for the next weeks. _Weeks._ As I said, it’s not a surprise. I could have told him. I _did_ tell him, to be honest. But you know your father. Once he sets out to do something… Well, anyway, once it starts to rain, he can’t paint on, which means I will have to look out my kitchen window for the foreseeable future and make do with white dotted flowers and a half-painted fence. That man is the most stubborn, stoic, unrelenting, single-minded—”

“I thought you loved him like crazy,” snickered Alex, cutting off his mother’s rant.

“Crazy being the deciding word here.” Penny let out a wailing sound. “Oh, sometimes I could…ugh!”

“Mom, can I ask you something and will you be honest with me?”

“Of course.”

“Was there ever a moment when you considered divorcing him?” He didn’t know why he asked it now, or why he even cared when he ought to be making his way to the burial site already. But lately, his mind was a scrambled mess of questions and answers which never aligned in a matter that seemed right. “Or, maybe not that, but…did you hesitate when he proposed? Or, like…I don’t even—”

“Would I divorce your father because he made my forsythia look like leprous creatures? No. If he’d touched the rose bush, it’d be a different story!” Penny giggled. “Just joking. Sweetheart…” A pause. “Why did you and Miles break up?”

Weeks of evading her questions and here he was, at the end of the road. “I don’t know.” And it was the honest truth. “I asked him to be with me. _Be_ with me, you know? Not hiding it anymore. He just sat there in silence, and that was it.”

“That wasn’t it, Alex. You and Miles broke up. What happened after you asked him?”

“He sat there,” repeated Alex with the same disbelief that he’d felt on the very day he’d begged him for a life together. “Swear, mom. He didn’t say a word. For a long time. Just sat there. And after a while…I don’t remember exactly what I said. It’s all blurred, now. Something along the lines of, guess you made your choice. Or, guess we’re done, then. He got up, he walked out, and that was it. And until today, I didn’t see or hear from him again.”

“You saw him today?”

“He was at the funeral.” Should he tell her the rest? He had to tell somebody. “We got into it. He blames me, says I was the one walking away. He walked out the door. Not me!”

It was quiet on the phone for a long time. Alex sat on the bench, arms propped up on his thighs, bending over, watching the first bugs of the season crawling out from beneath the ground.

He couldn’t say how many minutes had ticked by when she spoke up again. “Did you ever ask him to stay?”

“I asked him to stay forever!”

“After that, Alex. Did you ask him after that, when he made his way to the door?”

“What for?” His fingers ran through his hair, turning the combed style into messy disarray. Then he rested his cheek into his palm, letting out a long exhale. “He knew I wanted him to stay.”

“Did he?”

He shook his head, refusing to give that idea any merit. “Didn’t you listen to me? I asked him to stay forever and he said no!”

“That’s not what he did. And there’s a difference between asking somebody to stay under certain conditions or to stay no matter what. Did you make it clear that you wanted him to stay regardless? Or did you ask him to leave his wife, to leave his life, or to leave you instead? Sweetheart, I never doubted, from the moment I met your father, that I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. I knew I’d say _yes_ to him from the moment we met. I just knew. But I also knew that he’d drive me insane. That he was chaotic and free-spirited and that his spontaneous acts of painting the fence or buying you a bloody expensive guitar even though you’d just gotten punished for sneaking out and getting drunk at night would always test my patience. I don’t like that your father trusts people with reckless blindness. He thinks discipline is overrated. He used to ride a motorcycle when he was younger and he knew I was worried sick when he did. But he did it anyway. And it hurt me. If you ask him, he’ll give you a list of things he wished I wouldn’t do. We make compromises. We accept what we don’t like because the things that we do like, that we love, far outweigh everything else. Did you let Miles know that you love him despite the things that you don’t like about him?”

No. “I didn’t. I told him I loved him! Why isn’t that enough?”

“Tell him your truth, sweetheart. Tell him how you feel. The good and the bad.”

Alex drew in a shaky breath. “What if I do and he doesn’t love me anymore when I’m done?”

“Only one way to find out. Go and tell him.”

After he ended the call with his mother, he was resolved to go and see Miles, but he barely managed to make his way to the waiting car before he got cornered by business associates. He cited pressing appointments and a time-sensitive deadline, but it was in vain. Stuck, beleaguered, on the verge of acting rude just to get away, he soon gave up. It was a funeral, after all. Not the place to snap and behave in any way that would make the day any harder than it already was for the mourning family. And a part of him held a deep-rooted admiration for the widow. Her calm poise impressed him. The old lady deserved to say her last goodbye in peace.

Forced by peer-pressure to join those that pestered him to share a ride to the nearby graveyard, he slipped into the backseat of the black Mercedes in defeat.

As the car drove off, the last hour played back on his mind and he wondered, if he went to Miles, if he put himself in harm’s way and risked getting extinguished should Miles’ heart be closed off, would that be a smart idea? Would it make him a brave person for willfully running towards a chance of ruin? Wouldn’t it make him dumb, much rather? Wouldn’t it make him the kind of fool that Edward had called Daniel? The kind that hesitated and second-guessed and risked losing all instead of making do with the injuries that simply couldn’t be helped? Wasn’t it almost suicidal to go to Miles, just to hear him repeat what he’d said with actions that had spoken far louder than words all the way back in January?

_“All you had to say was yes!”_

_“And I would have said it.”_

The statement suddenly echoed back in his head. Miles’ statement. Miles’ admission from earlier. Alex had heard it, obviously. Else he wouldn’t recall it now. But it seemed it only now reached his consciousness.

_“And I would have said it.”_

Miles would have said _yes_.

He would have said _yes_?

“Son of a bitch, this Edward!”

The comment, blurted out by the man sitting to Alex’s immediate right, tore him out his thoughts. The guy next to him groveled on. “Took me to court over a single missed payment. Told him I’d transfer the money, but that fucker could never accept the word of anybody. Said he should have never gotten into business with me. Could have been more relaxed about it, but no! Made a huge mess for me. He had the fucking guts to say he needed to rectify that mistake immediately and therefore had to sue me for my money! I mean, can you imagine?” He, obviously, couldn’t. “Not like a bit of money for some fucking steel beams would have given his company the spike in cash-flow he’d always lusted after. What a prick. And now I’m forced to attend his funeral to uphold appearances…”

_“If he had wanted to remain married, he should have done so.”_

Alex had it all wrong, had he not? If he hadn’t wanted to get into business with Edward, he shouldn’t have done so. If he hadn’t wanted to waste time on a deal which he’d known from the very start he wouldn’t get credit for, he shouldn’t have done so. If he didn’t want to become like Edward, he didn’t need to, because he had a choice and he had a voice and he had agency over himself and his decisions and it was his own fucking life that he could do with as he pleased.

He made his own decisions. He’d gotten into a fight with Edward over it, defending that position, and Edward had _not_ disagreed with him about his choice to do what he wanted to do, something Alex only now realized. And thinking back to it, to Daniel, to his own promise to apologize for speaking a truth that stood above doubt – something he’d yet to do and something he decided now he’d never do – he figured that the old fucker had a point. People made choices. People made mistakes. It was what happened after that, in the face of dissenting opinion and when confronted with fallout, that defined people.

Alex had cowered.

Edward had sued.

And just like that, it became so simple. If Alex wanted Miles to know how he felt, he needed to tell him. If Alex wanted Miles back, he should get off his ass and get him back. And if Miles said _no_ , then Alex would go from there.

Forward.

Speaking of cash-flow…” Tugging on his tie, loosening the knot, the guy next to him interrupted Alex’s thoughts once again. His shoulder bumped Alex’s, a gesture that immediately sparked to life Alex’s tougher, unforgiving side. Physical touches were a rare gift that he allowed few people to extend to him. He had not and certainly never would have allowed him! The man, named George, then pulled a pair of slim, gold-framed glasses off his nose. “Got some time for me in the near future? Construction these days…gristly business. Might have to rely on some advice. Does tomorrow work?”

His schedule was packed. His clients were bigger. And Alex was overcome by a spontaneous urge to defend somebody that he’d gone all day calling much worse. People wanted him to be honest? Well. Let ‘em choke on it. “Smart man, this Edward, taking you to court. Who knows, you might never have paid-up otherwise. As for my time, I’m all booked-up.” Reaching into his suit jacket, taking out his shades, he made a show of sliding them into place. Once done, he adjusted his tie, perfected the knot, and crooked his lips into a smug arch of utter dismissal and sheer condescension. “Besides, since construction, as you say, is such a _gristly_ business, you wouldn’t be able to afford me anyway.” Staring out the car window, Alex recalled his first meeting with a man that was being put to the ground as their car drove on.

**_Last year_ **

_“Turner, is it?” The imposing man of ripe age and white hair raised his brows and with that his entire hairline. “Was told to make this appointment.” He did not bother hiding his skepticism, without a doubt believing that all this was a colossal waste of time. “Your name, it’s got a certain reputation to it. Is it true? What’s being said about you?”_

_Alex, who sat in his leather chair behind the massive desk, felt uncharacteristically lesser and, in an effort to offset it, he avoided direct eye-contact while letting his bluster fly more than he usually would upon meeting a new client. “Depends on what’s being said about me. Am I good? I’m better. Am I worth it? Yes. Am I a prick? You’ll call me that in no time, trust me. Will you regret hiring me? No.”_

_The man lifted one of his bushy, grey brows and smiled, visibly surprised. “Arrogance.” A nod rolled off his shoulders. “Like that trait. Takes guts to get places. You know what challenges I’m facing?”_

_“Yes,” asserted Alex, tapping a pile of papers on his desk. He’d known long before preparing for this meet. It was all over the press. “Read the portfolio, the forecasts, the outstanding bills. Before we get into it, one important thing. This…” He motioned back and forth between them, “will only work out if you accept_ my _advice and follow_ my _suggestions. I don’t accept second-guessing. People who hire me want me to win big for them. I can do that for you, too. If you let me. But you have to let me do what you’re hiring me to do. No interferences, no objections. No hesitations. Clear?”_

 _“Perfectly so.” Edward dipped his head once, unimpressed. “Here’s the problem, kid. I_ will _interfere, since it’s my company. I_ will _object, since it’s my prerogative, and while I will want you to succeed, it is_ my _definition of what that success will look like that you will have to keep in mind. Clear?”_

_“Well, doesn’t that sound promising?” snorted Alex._

_“Don’t you worry,” eased the old man. “We’ll get by just fine, I’m sure. We’re two of a kind, you and I. Aiming for victory at all times. At all costs. Never taking a minute to let doubt get in the way. Sounds like you and I might be a perfect match.”_

_“Are we?” Alex wasn’t so sure. This thing was destined to get messy; he had a sixth sense when it came to that. “Maybe—”_

_“Trust me. It’ll end well. I’m ready for one last adventure. Are you?”_

**Present time**

He stood in front of the grave. Or, rather, outside the crypt. Nothing modest like a regular grave would ever suffice for him. Not even death could turn him into a commoner, marveled Alex, caught unaware by the fondness that gripped him. The door was locked. The guests had left. The graveyard had cleared out. The sun was setting, and a warm, golden tone blurred the hard lines and edges while transforming the sharp contrasts into glowing, soft shapes. “Hell of a ride we had, you and I.” He extended his arm, setting a hand against the grey cement, and taking in the uneven texture, worn down by time and nature. It carried the vestiges of history on its sleeve like a badge of honor. It was cold. Lifeless. Yet durable and robust. It had weathered many a storm and still stood strong. “I did respect you. And I must have liked you,” he granted, at last, speaking the secret into darkness. “To some extent, right? Been shedding a fucking lot of tears because of you. You’d have laughed at me for it. ‘til next time.”

Alex knocked hard. The day had drained him. Being confronted by death all day had left him impatient and with an unanticipated urge to make matters right. That included facing his greatest fear and asking Miles, point blank, if all was lost or if there was any reason left to hope.

The sound of a door being unlocked made his heart beat faster, thudding away in anxiousness. His hands were sweaty, his mouth ran dry, and no matter how hard he tried to control his body, it refused to calm down. The heavy entrance door swung inward. Words prepared ahead of time, Alex was about to jump into his speech when a pair of fine, blue eyes blinked his way.

Female eyes. “Hi, there?”

Was he on the wrong floor? “Uh…looking for Miles!”

The eyes widened. The rest of her became visible as she fully stepped into the doorway. She was a beautiful woman, wearing a long, royal blue terry robe. Her hair was bundled up into a messy nest near the top of her head. He didn’t think she was wearing make-up and he wouldn’t say she needed it. High cheekbones framed a delicate nose. Full lips and an almost porcelain white skin didn’t distract from the slender lines of her neck. Only when her mouth twitched into what Miles had once called the world’s most dangerous grin did Alex make the connection. “You’re Lena.”

The grin took up most of her face by the time she extended her hand. He had manners and, naturally, he shook it, nodding once, introducing himself. “I’m Alex Turner.” The way her hand had unfurled made it clear that this was a woman who was well aware of the effect her appearance and her demeanor had on others and she utilized it with an elegance that was mesmerizing. As if bewitched he had no choice but to smile back.

“We meet at last.” Stepping aside, she pulled back her arm and guided it in the other direction. “Please, come inside. How was the funeral?”

“The…” Alex met her eyes with puzzled ones. “You know?”

“I presumed. I do read the paper. I know the asshole died. Won’t be missed, that’s for sure. Don’t get me wrong. Miles told me bits and pieces. You had some sort of relationship with him. Guess the dickhead had its good moments. But back in the day, when I studied, he gave some lectures. Not gonna brag here, but I am smart! And unforgivably rude,” she added on what seemed like an afterthought and it looked as though she was wincing at her own behavior. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, I’m fine.” He scanned his surroundings. He’d been here before. Maybe a handful of times. When he’d walked past the furniture with a goal in mind, heading for Miles’ quarters. When they’d…well, long ago. He’d caught glimpses of the kitchen and the living room. The décor. It was an entirely different scale of grand than what his apartment had to offer, and his was big already. “Nice place.”

She shrugged with indifference. “I’m barely here. Did none of it. Had a decorator. But don’t tell Miles! He thinks I did most it myself. Poor guy hates interior designers. I don’t understand that! Oh, well. Never mind.” Eyes wandered off, rolled, then returned. “Anyway, Edward gave a lecture and I had a few well-formed questions that he couldn’t answer to my satisfaction. After his third attempt and my continued displeasure, he cut off and told me I should honor my kind and return into the kitchen I escaped from. The guy could have cured Aids and I’d still hate his guts. Was it a bloated affair? I bet it was. I was tempted to go, just for the spectacle, but I was being the good friend that I am and threw a birthday party for a pathetic, petulant cry-baby that didn’t show up. God knows where he went! He knew that guests were waiting for him. Cake and all,” she groveled. “You can sit down if you like! I’m being a miserable host tonight, aren’t I? God, if my mother could see me.” Her eyes rolled again and she waved a hand. “Oh, forgive me. Snacks, anything? I can call somebody if you want real food. I’d whip something up but…I don’t cook. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m blitzed on Champagne.”

At that, he chuckled. He couldn’t wait to have a long conversation with her, getting to know her, or just discussing all of Miles’ funny quirks that she sure had bunches to say about. But not tonight. Not right now. Not when it was Miles he was dying to see. “All’s good. Really, just…I need to talk to Miles.”

“So do I! Fucker bailed without warning. Sorry, I didn’t invite you to his birthday party, but you guys were or are or…I mean, broken up. All that. Are you still broken up? I was gone for most of last week. Fill me in!”

Alex frowned. “Hold on! Miles’ birthday? That’s today?”

“Yep.”

He hadn’t known. They hadn’t yet met around this time last year. He’d known that it was in March. He’d meant to ask Jamie for the specific date. But then things had fallen apart and it became irrelevant. “You had a party planned? He knew that?” He’d skipped his birthday to attend the funeral of somebody he’d met once, maybe twice?

“Of course, he knew. He loves parties, especially if the entire purpose of it is to collect gifts,” drawled Lena as the slightest slur curled around the words. “Had a huge venue rented out.” She glanced at the golden watch that ran around her arm. “Party’s still going strong, I think. Over a hundred guests. Some flew in just for him! Sure, few of them are close friends. Less than a dozen, probably. But he could have mentioned something. If I’d known, I’d have canceled. Or cut the cake.”

“He was at—” Alex took a seat, after all, smacked over the head by this new information. “He was at the funeral. To pay his respects.”

Lena stared at him. “To Edward? Ugh.”

Alex tapped his foot against the hardwood floors in restlessness. “I’m sorry for being rude, but where _is_ he? Where could he be? When will he get home?” He’d already gone to Miles’ office, waiting half an hour for Doreen to return to her seat and to ask for him. That woman, sweet as she was, had needed fucking truckload of words to tell him in great and intricate detail how she had no fucking clue where her boss currently was. He’d called his phone – no reply. He’d even called Miles’ mother! That was half an hour of his life he’d never see again! Traffic that day was devil incarnate. The time he’d lost getting from the graveyard to Miles’ office, to his apartment— Damn it, he was running out of patience!

“I don’t know. I’m not being flippant. I truly don’t know. He moved out last January. ‘s been living in a hotel the entire time. Some weekends, he stays at his parents’ mansion.”

“A hotel?” Why didn’t Jamie tell him? How was a guy supposed to keep up?

“Went there right after he told me he wanted a divorce!”

Alex mentally recapped. These new developments…he was getting a headache. “He told you that?”

“Yes. Said he’d done it all wrong and that he had to fix it. Didn’t really know what he was talking ‘bout. Took him weeks to tell me you guys broke up. I’ll be honest. It sucks. And I’d have preferred if he kept the marriage going for a little while longer. See, I got a guy in the States. He’s a bit of a famous one and he’s married, too. Complicated. Doesn’t matter. As long as I was married, nobody gave a fuck about me. And Miles knew that! Now…I mean I’m not Heather Mills-famous, but I’ve been hit with the occasional inquiry from the press about all that and I really have to watch my steps because of it. None of that should concern you. Forget about it. Bottom line, I have no idea where Miles is. I can give you his hotel if you want?”

“Yes! Please!”

“He’s at the Mandarin Oriental.” Her nose went up. “Penthouse. Where else…”

Great.

More traffic.

He’d been so wrong. Alex pressed his forehead against the cold metal panel of the elevator as it rushed past floors, up toward the penthouse. How selfish he’d been. He’d paid only little attention to Lena’s fast-paced rambles, too occupied with the frenzied flurry of thoughts that bounced around his own head. But he’d caught bits and pieces. There was so much that he hadn’t known. Miles had hinted at it often enough, but Alex had hardly cared about his relationship with his wife. They were friends, good friends, and they’d entered into their agreement together. Of course, it wasn’t just to serve up a neat background for Miles. She had been in it to get something out of it as well.

How torn Miles must have felt when Alex had put the proverbial pistol to his chest, to make him choose between two people he loved in different ways, yet with equal force. When he’d told him to cancel his long-standing plans for New Year’s Eve, just so Alex could kiss him at midnight, Miles had done it. Even though without a shred of doubt he’d hurt Lena by that. He’d never mentioned it to Alex. He’d never let on how much pressure he was under. How much pressure _Alex_ had put him under! He’d never…

God, there was so much that they had to talk about! Everything that Miles had tossed into his face earlier that day still scraped against the raw surface of his nerves. He was fucking livid about his accusations! And yet, he’d his own share of shit to make up for.

“Fuck!” Alex swung around, hit his head back, and heard the dull thud as it met the metal. It was a little painful, but not nearly as painful as it should be. As Alex deserved it to be.

The elevator arrived.

“Please be home, please be home, please be home,” he kept muttering, rushing to the door as the seconds raced by. He checked the time. Two minutes left. His fist didn’t knock, it slammed against the door, over and over and over.

“What the hell?” it roared from the inside.

Alex hammered on, midnight hot on his heels.

“Coming! Cut it out, will you? Or I’m calling security!” Miles opened. Then stared in wide-eyed shock. Only to get over it quickly. A hand up against the frame, his face was plastered with expectation. The aggravated kind. “Yes…?”

Time was running out on him and so he scrapped his plans for a rousing speech of blame, forgiveness, and second chances. Ornamental words required time and space. He had neither. “This is going to get ugly real soon so let’s get the important part over with, first. It’s your birthday!”

Infuriatingly calm, Miles now leaned fully against the frame of the entrance. Cool and detached. Buckling in for a longer conversation, it appeared. Judging from the drooping corners of his mouth he wasn’t too excited at the prospect. “What’s left of it, yes.”

“Who knows if I ever get to do this again,” muttered Alex, advancing with purpose.

Miles tensed up. “Alex—”

Alex cannonballed forward, grabbed Miles’ head, and kissed him. He kissed him with the starving desperation of somebody who for the past three months had withered away and given up on life only to taste it now and to find himself super-charged with energy and burning with passion.

Pressed up against the wall, panting for air, struggling to fill his lungs with oxygen, Miles parted from Alex’s lips. Mouth hanging open, cheeks flushed, lips kissed into plum red curves, he met Alex’s gaze with one of total bewilderment.

Alex, meanwhile, finally began to feel like himself again. Maybe more like himself than he’d ever felt before. No longer lost in the wilderness of his thoughts and fears, he was back to where he’d felt so fucking comfortable for most of last year – Miles’ life.

Just as he’d done in the car on route to the graveyard, he cocked his head to the side with impunity, lifted his brows a tad, and flaunted the sort of confident smirk that he’d been so bloody terrified of having lost for good. Oh yes, he was back! And he knew exactly what he wanted. “Birthday kiss.” Midnight had come and gone. But feeling Miles’ sweet lips against his own had brought back memories of happier days. Of his happiest days. It had refilled his drained batteries, it had shown him what it was that he was fighting for, and it had swollen his heart with the kind of motivation that he needed to say the next words and to make ‘em count. “I want you back. And I will fight for us! You have to remember that ‘cause I’m about to say some bad shit to you!”

Entirely perplexed from the looks of it, Miles stared at him with wide-eyed shock. “What?”

.

.

**Spoiler Chapter 30:**

#

A troubled expression rested on Miles’ face as his body leaned against the wall of the room, motionless. Lips twitched after a beat, and a croaked admission broke free from him. “You’re—” He cleared his throat, repeating the word with a little more strength. “You’re right.” And then it were his eyes that turned away.

Alex sank down onto the couch, feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders. One hand wiped over his eyes. “Every time you thought I was waiting for you to make a move, I was. But I didn’t wait because I was scared or reluctant. I did it because I wanted you to! I needed to know that you wanted me, too! I wanted _you_ to choose _me_!”

#

“You could have just told me,” supplied Alex. “And after I knew, you could have _had_ me. If the last few days taught me anything, then that honesty matters. I fucking hate that you were married. I fucking hate that you needed me to ask you to get divorced and didn’t decide to do it sooner. That hurt.”

#


	31. Regrets

**#Alex**

Now that the kiss was out of the way, Alex’s pent up frustration had room for an extended breath. Stepping fully into the penthouse, shrugging out of his jacket as he gathered his thoughts and mapped out his strategy. This was going to take a while and he was prepared to stay as long as necessary, however long it took to get his message across. “You got some fucking nerve to say what you did earlier. Are you high on drugs or something?” Full of verve, he tossed the jacket away, right along his intention to handle this in a calm and grown-up manner. His voice rose with each syllable, anger flaring up in an instant. “Were you fucking serious, Miles?! You accuse me of being a shitty coward? You got some real twisted memory in your head, let me tell you!” Hurt exploded from him, unexpected. He was pacing up and down the living room, his body fueled by a personal sense of injury, needing to let out everything he’d held inside of him for weeks, now. “In case you forgot, I fucking didn’t know that you were gay in the beginning, and to make matters worse, you told me that you were motherfucking married! I didn’t know it was a fake marriage. Excuse me for trying to respect those fucking holy vows you gave your wife by _not_ putting my lips where they weren’t supposed to go in the first place!”

He didn’t meet his eyes. His insides were boiling too hot. Spotting a tray with empty glasses and a decanter with something stiff, he went there and poured himself one. An attempt at distracting himself from his indignation. “I flirted with you, Miles.” Alex swallowed the drink at once. Winced. Poured another one. “Every single time it slipped my mind that you were with her, I fucking flirted with you! I didn’t run. I didn’t hide. Not then. I felt fucking awful for intruding into your marriage! I waited for you after my botched plans with Mark, remember? I waited for you and I’ve never waited for _anyone_! I stepped into the shower. And I fucking didn’t dare you into kissing me. I waited for you to kiss me! Because _you_ knew you were not married for real and _you_ knew you were gay and _you_ knew you wanted me and I knew _fucking none of that_ ,” roared Alex, at last spinning around and glaring at him with the fury of a somebody who was deeply offended. “The night before you left for San Francisco, you kissed me. Yes. But _you_ pulled back as well! Same way you pulled back all the fucking times between me finding out and me telling you to screw it and to give it a go.”

“You fucking ran away to your parents! You avoid calls when shit gets rough. You don’t text back. You hide. You kicked me out! And then you flew to fucking Norway, Alex. _Norway,_ ” sneered Miles.

“’cause I’m human,” Alex barked back, echoing the words that Edward had thrown his way – words, which suddenly conveyed an entirely new meaning. “Humans make mistakes! And I cowered. Yes. But I’m _not_ doing that anymore! I made a choice and I committed to it. I choose you and I was ready to commit to you! How ‘bout you fucking take note of that and admit that you’re the one who ran from the biggest decision of ‘em all! And why the fuck did I have to find out from your wife that you’re getting a divorce?!”

  
  


**#Miles**

It was a body blow. A hard fist to the chin. A kick in the shin. A sucker punch to the gut. Miles sank back against the wall, dimly surprised there even was one, lost to space and time as he was. Alex’s words had hit that harshly. He was motionless. Stuck and confounded. How had he gotten it all so wrong? The charges rattled down by Alex stuck to the blandly decorated walls of his room like blood splatter. Back in January, when being told by Alex to leave the apartment, effectively being told they were broken up, it had been such a crushing experience, he’d shut down and just done what he’d been asked to do. After that, his days had resembled life after the sudden loss of a loved one to death. There were stages of grief, he’d once read somewhere. He’d googled them. They’d applied perfectly to his situation.

Step one: Denial.

The next morning, after botching up what should have been a perfect moment, he’d come back, and he’d wanted to fix everything. He’d believed it had been a misunderstanding. A colossal one. A fucked up, stupid, dumb kind of miscommunication which could easily be fixed if he just went to Alex, told him what he should have said first and immediately – _yes_ – and then they’d be happy and off to planning life together.

But Alex hadn’t been there.

Nobody had known how to reach him.

Or, rather, nobody had gotten through. Alex had refused to answer his messages and calls and, eventually, Miles had given up.

He’d talk to him once Alex returned, Miles had decided.

Only, by the time Alex _had_ returned, Miles had reached step two: anger. And boy, had he been angry at him. Angry because he’d once again fled the scene of the crime, stealing Miles’ chance to fix it. Just as he’d done before. And it had spiraled from there.

Now, he understood, being awoken to it by Alex’s biting truths, he’d gotten lost in his anger and adjusted the memories to fit his injured heart. If love was lost, the only thing left was self-esteem. There had been no room for a guilty conscience within his battered body. It had been lonely enough as it was, and remorse did nothing to help warm the bed after dark.

During those long hours each night in which he’d longed for him for the past weeks, he’d thought about everything and despite his best intentions to stay furious, because it made it easier not to go to him and beg him for entrance and maybe a hug or a kiss or even just a single tender touch, regret had snuck in after all. That fateful night in January had replayed in front of his eyes continually, in high definition, with clear sounds, and an undisputed theme: If only he’d done better, he’d be with him right then. If only he’d divorced her sooner, Alex wouldn’t have had to ask him. If only he’d said ‘yes’, Alex wouldn’t have read his silence as a ‘no’.

Step three: Bargaining.

He hadn’t slipped into a depression, stage four, as Google had suggested. He’d felt lonelier than ever, though. That hadn’t changed since. He’d gotten lost in the sea of his thoughts, he’d gotten confused by the blurry images of his past which guided him further into murky waters.

Clearly.

He must have.

How could he have remembered it all so wrong? And he’d done that!

Alex was right.

Miles had focused so much on the small things that Alex had done wrong, inflated them, misremembered them, that he’d forgotten about everything he’d done right in the best and most impressive of ways.

His wacked body slid down against the wall and he came to sit on the ground, eyes downcast, shoulders burdened with shame. “You’re—” The croaked sounds were barely audible, scraping against his ears. Miles cleared his throat, repeating his words with more force. He wanted him to know. “You’re right.”

Alex, too, sank down onto the couch. The day, no doubt, weighed heavily upon him. A hand wiped over his tired eyes. “Every time you thought I was waiting for you to make a move, I was,” he admitted freely. Only to add, to stretch, “I didn’t wait because I was scared or reluctant. I did it because I wanted you to. I needed to know that you wanted me, too. I wanted _you_ to choose _me_!”

“So did I,” he whispered out. “I’ve been married to Lena for such a long time,” explained Miles tentatively, struggling to pick the adequate words and therefore almost speaking to himself more than addressing Alex, “it’s no longer on my mind that she’s the wife I’m supposed to cherish. This fake relationship…it slips my mind most days. And when I’m with you, you’re the only thing I see. You’re my sun and my stars and my entire world.” He leaned back with a bottomless groan, reigning in his wayward emotions. Words were soaked with rue as they dropped from his lips in dull, bleak thuds. Eyes snuck a hesitant glance his way. “In the pool, that night, I forgot that I was married. There was just you and me and you were perfect. You were sparkling in the moonlight. I wished you’d kiss me. Somewhere, in the far back of my mind, I knew why you didn’t,” acknowledged Miles. “It’s because I did not tell you the truth. It’s _my_ fault. You’re right. I’m so sorry for what I’ve said, Alex.” Thinking back to that earlier moment in the park, Miles was trounced by repentance. Then, in the heat of the moment, faced with Alex for the first time after months of stewing in a misery of his own making, he’d let his pride get the better of him. He’d lashed out to get his own truth out into the open, not realizing what faulty tale it was. “What I’ve accused you of – I should have never said it. I’m so sorry. It was me. You had every reason to doubt me. I’m the one who knew better. I could have—”

“You could have just told me,” supplied Alex. “After I found out, you could have _had_ me. If the last few days taught me anything, then that honesty matters. I fucking hate that you were married. I fucking hate you needed me to ask you to get a divorce instead of just getting one on your own. That hurt.”

Miles kept his head low, but asked, quietly, “why didn’t you say so? Why did you tell me to get out? Why didn’t you let me make it right?” And he would have made it right. He’d have moved heaven and hell to make it right. He still would. “I know, okay? I… Fuck! Yes, I needed that fucking moment to get it into my head. I’m bad at making decisions. I know that, alright? You want honesty?” His voice began to break. He hadn’t discerned how strongly the moment was affecting him until his own tone pointed it out to him. “I knew you were the one from me from the moment you asked me about soulmates. Last summer, at my parents’ house, when we were lying on the couch and you asked me how I knew? You thought I was talking about my wife while I was thinking about you. I knew in that moment. It was that night that I fell in love with you. But I didn’t want to know. I ignored it. You’re right. I might just be the coward I accused you of being. I make a living setting people up, hoping they’ll find their happily ever after. Yet, I’m a liar. I don’t believe in that.”

Alex’s attention jerked his way.

Miles met it squarely. “At least I didn’t use to. Then you came along and suddenly I had hope. I never loved anyone so much. I didn’t think I could love anyone so much. If I went all in… It’s a pretty deep hole you can fall into once everything falls apart.”

“I know,” allowed Alex on a muted whisper, swallowing hard. “I thought I…” He looked away as he drew in a shaky breath. “I thought if I pull the plug and not wait for you to do it, it might break the fall a little. I told you to get out. I couldn’t hear you say ‘no’. It didn’t work. It hurt just as much. I ran. After that night, I admit, I ran.”

“What you said? You were right. In my head, I guess I only remembered what I wanted to remember.” The words were coated with a thick sheet of shame. “And even that, I remembered wrong. Today, at the funeral…you should have told me to fucking shove it.”

A small smile absconded Alex’s lip. “You were right ‘bout a few things.”

Miles didn’t have the strength to smile back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too,” Alex professed. “Me, too.”

Miles inhaled sharply and sat up. It took a long time for him to get himself off the floor, onto his legs, only to walk to a chair across the couch and slouch down there. Desolation had a vicious hold on him. He felt exhausted and drained and stuck in a moment that he couldn’t read. Was this the beginning of something or the end? His gaze landed on Alex, brimming with questions. “Where do we go from here, then?”

“I told you, I want you back. I still love you. As much as I ever have! We _both_ made mistakes, Miles. We know that. We can do better next time. I don’t want to give up.” The next part came out with dread-filled apprehension. “Do you?”

“No,” assured Miles immediately, shaking his head to underscore it. He wanted Alex back, and if it took him a lifetime to prove to him that he deserved a second chance, he’d give it happily. “I want us to make it right.” He was no longer slouching, but sitting upright, speaking the words with conviction. “I want us to be happy again. There’re so many things that you and I haven’t done yet.” As he kept going, slowly, very slowly, he lost the glumness that had befallen him and in the face of hope, he dared to imagine what a future might hold. “I want us to go out on a date. I want us to take a trip on the boat, as we’ve planned. I want to make you smile again and kiss that sadness from your face.”

Alex brightened at that. A thick beam that scarcely masked the fact that he, too, was hesitant and still trying to find his footing inside this moment. “A date sounds nice.”

Miles’ heart jumped so high it nearly burst out of his chest. “Yes?” He scrambled to his feet. Straightened his pants, smoothed out his shirt. He was still wearing the suit he’d worn at the funeral. After he’d departed, he’d spent the remainder of the day busying himself with emails and calls – anything to not think. To not miss him.

Watching with a cheeky mien, the kind that made him look much younger than he was, a bit impish, and cute, and stuffed to the hilt with promises, Alex wondered, “what’s happening right now? You’re going somewhere?”

Miles shook his head and at long last found the power to smile back. “Have to do this right.” He took another breath. Steeled himself. Took two steps forward, but none more, lest he wanted to risk everything and end up taken too brazen a leap. “Alex Turner, will you go out on a date with me? Tomorrow?” Only to wince. “Shoot, fuck!” He cursed. “I got a business dinner tomorrow.” Where was his phone? Hands patted his pockets. He needed to cancel!

“Saturday, then,” suggested Alex. The bend of his lips morphed into a full-blown grin.

_Wow._ Miles felt his legs grow wobbly. How beautiful Alex was when he was happy. How long it had been since he’d witnessed it. “No.” He snapped out of his daze. “Tomorrow. Today, actually. Friday.” God, how late was it? It had to be the middle of the night. “I’ll cancel. You’re more important!”

“Don’t cancel!” Alex rose from the couch, to take his own strides forward. He paused on the other side of the table. His face was as serious as it could be. “I know you’d do it. Miles, I know you love me. I never doubted that. When I told you to go, I got scared and I wasn’t thinking rationally. I told you, we _both_ made mistakes. _I_ made mistakes, _too_. I’m sorry, _too_. This isn’t your fault. We _both_ got us here.” Over the table, he extended an arm, holding out his hand for him.

“I’ll cancel anyway,” he insisted, with an almost comical sense of petulance. “I want to be with you.” Miles moved his own arm toward Alex, craving that touch that he’d dreamt off every night since January. But he stopped just short of touching him, self-consciously admitting that, “my hand is clammy.”

The most affectionate expression filled Alex’s face. “So is mine.”

Fingers came into contact. The tips moved timidly, with careful little flicks and brushes. What had at one point been a familiar, perfected connection was now a first step and it felt a size too big to rush into. With pace, the jittery fingers entwined as both Alex and Miles observed with baited breaths.

Covered from head to toe with tingles that prickled his skin, Miles stepped forward, or tried to, only to slam his shin into the table. “Ouch.” He’d forgotten it was there.

“Careful. Don’t want you to injure yourself ahead of our date.”

“I’ll show up in a full body cast if I have to.”

“I know you will.”

How beat he looked, found Miles, unabashedly staring and taking inventory of every tiny little detail he could spot. The bright and joyful eyes were sagging, fatigued. Miles quickly checked the clock by the tv. “How late it’s become.”

Alex jerked his hand away. “Yes. God, you’re right. I should go, I sho—”

“No,” blurted Miles, shaking his head quickly, immediately regretting saying anything. “That’s not why I said it! Oh, no. I…er…” How cold his hand felt, suddenly. He brought it back against his own body, rubbing it against the other one. “Sit down, I mean. You must have been up all day, and the funeral…then us…are you tired?”

“A little,” Alex admitted, sheepishly. He did sit down.

Miles grabbed Alex’s empty glass from the table, to do something. Anything. He’d never been nervous around him before. Until now. “Let me get you another drink. Whiskey? Coffee? I can call room service.” He’d pay a fortune to have the hotel chef come up and cook a meal, just so Alex might stay a little while longer. But instead of simply telling him, Miles searched for reasons. Excuses.

Alex stifled a yawn. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Miles put the glass away. “Okay.”

“Now that you said it, I am rather tired, I must confess.”

_Well done, Miles. Well done!_ “Great!”

Alex turned his head his way, eyebrows arched. “What’s that?”

_Damnit!_ “Er…sorry. Um…tired. Yes.” He racked his useless brain to come up with a solution. Sleep was a solution but sleep required saying goodbye and that, therefore, was _not_ a solution.

Alex stretched.

Miles sighed. “You want to go home, right?”

“I’d like to go sleep,” divulged Alex.

His sight landed on the glass once more. There was a straw to clutch. “You had alcohol. You can’t leave yet.”

A snorted chuckle. “I had a driver take me here. I’ll take a cab. But thanks,” added Alex, bloody amused, “for your concern.”

“I got a guest room,” Miles swiftly recalled. “It’s right there.” His hand shot out, motioning for the door on the far side of the room.

“I got an apartment,” Alex reminded him.

“Across the city. Hours away.”

“Ten minutes.”

“In this traffic?”

“At night?”

Oh, why did he have to be so bloody logical?! Miles was running out of pretexts! “You’re not gonna get a cab at this hour!”

A sly smile grazed Alex’s lips when he rounded the couch to lean against the armrest, a mere half-meter away from Miles. “Mi, are you trying to get me to stay the night? ‘Cause I’m a proper English lad,” he teased, brown eyes twinkling. “I don’t dish out before the first date. And until you wine and dine me tonight, you won’t see me gettin’ anywhere near your bedroom.”

“How ‘bout the guest room.”

Laughter busted from Alex. The sound a magical musical composition that immediately produced a wide smile on Miles’ face. He could listen to that one for the rest of his life and never tire of it. “Forward, aren’t you?”

Miles blushed. He bloody blushed. Focus darting away, trying and failing to land on something to fixate on, he bit the corner of his lip, embarrassed to be such a stumbling fool who couldn’t fess up to what he really wanted. “I…uh…meant the guest room is there and you can…you know…sleep there. Lock the door if you want!”

“Should I?” Alex’s eyes crinkled with humor. “Would you recommend it?”

Miles spun away from him, unable to catch that grunt that escaped too fast. “If you want recommendations, I’d suggest my bed. It’s warm and big and comfy. Everything you like.” He came across like a pouty teenager, no doubt. Turning back around, he froze. Alex was right there, in front of him, an inch or two away at most. He stopped breathing. Stopped moving. Just watched. Waited.

Both sides of his mouth pinned upward, Alex cocked his head to the side. “That so?”

Miles was melting at the sight of him. “Uh-huh.”

“Maybe,” suggested Alex with a tone so low it ate away at his restraint, “I should stay there, then.”

“Yes,” breathed Miles.

“And, maybe, you should…” He leaned closer.

Miles tilted forward. “Yes?”

“Take the guest room.”

“Are you punishing me right now?”

More laughter. “No. I’m messin’ with you. You seem a bit tense. The guest room,” Alex continued, humor swirling over his fine face, “sounds perfect.” He closed the distance, raised himself to his toes, and brought his lips to Miles’ cheek, giving it a lingering kiss and leaving lip-shaped indentations on his soul. Hands rested against Miles’ stomach and he pulled it in, muscles taut, sensing the heat that Alex spread through each and every corner and crevice of his body. As if by a biblical miracle, the blood inside his veins turned to sparkling water, leaving a tingling sensation everywhere. His throat ran dry. His lips quivered. Was this what _Sleeping Beauty_ had felt like after the prince had kissed her from her slumber? Eyes fluttering, skin burning up, Miles could only imagine.

Alex let up with the tiniest, sexiest moan that Miles had heard in all of his life, hushing a parting, “Night, my love.” He was gone before Miles even remotely recovered.

**#Alex**

What a day it was. Alex blew out a breath as he slumped down onto the edge of the bed, granting his weary bones some much-needed pause. So much had happened. He’d woken up after a night of nary any sleep, feeling lonely, sad, and lightyears removed from answers and solutions. And now, hours later, he was in Miles’ guestroom, a bit of night and half a day away from going on a date with him.

How quickly life changed.

They’d made up.

Or, they were getting there.

Life was good again.

It’d be much better if he were sitting on Miles’ bed right now, instead of this one, empty yet comfortable as it was. But well, moving slow might not be the worst idea in the world. The last three months had been rough. Much had happened. The last _days_ had been rough. _The last hour!_ Taking it slow meant taking time to get familiar with each other again. They were far from back to their old days. Miles had been uncharacteristically shy a few minutes ago, adorable though it had been, stumbling over his words, not knowing how to express himself. Alex had wanted nothing more than reach out, kiss his perfect mouth, and tell him to relax. Tell him that everything was fine. Tell him they’d figure it all out down the road. He, too, had faltered, though, unsure how to walk across this field of mines.

Yes, he’d been hurt by Miles’ words. Nonetheless, he knew Miles and could state without a doubt that this man, who was kind and considerate and emphatic and sweet and full of compassion, carried buckets of regret on his shoulder for it, suffering more by it than Alex ever did. And he knew that he, himself, had his own fair share of regretful behavior to condone for. It was as he’d said. They had _both_ screwed up.

But they knew that. They’d learn from it.

Taking it slow would help with that.

He was sure of it.

Really!

He snorted at his own thoughts.

Who was he fucking kidding, huh?

If he weren’t so bloody tired right now, he’d march over, hop onto his bed, and make it clear just how stupid ‘taking it slow’ actually was! But his head was half asleep and—

His gaze landed on the small desk by the television, across the foot of the bed. Miles was using this room to store his empty suitcases. He and guest rooms…

With a vague grin, he rose from the bed, momentarily forgetting that he was too worn-out to move. Something caught his eyes. Something shiny and silver, something that sat upon a small pile of books. Something—

Their love lock.

He recognized it before he fully inspected it. To prove himself right, he traced his finger over the engraving, the one he’d watched getting edged into the smooth metal ‘bout half a year ago.

_Miles + Alex = Forever_

Short, still containing all the information necessary.

Inside the lock, the key still sat. The finger outlined it. How had Miles gotten hold of it? Did he have a spare key? But how?

His focus wandered to the books beneath. A travel guide to Serbia.

_Serbia?_ thought Alex, frowning, his curiosity swelling at rapid speed. He moved the lock out of the way, spotting a bookmark wedged between pages. Flipping the odd piece of literature open, he read the highlighted passage.

Two random, vague lines about love locks and how the tradition started in an obscure town in that country, a century ago.

“What…”

He went for the next book. A photography collection featuring famous bridges. A post-it marked the page upon which the original bridge of love was featured.

Where drained limbs had troubled him before, spiked interest now provided energy. He pushed it to the side, eager to learn what the other books were about. One was a dictionary, _English–Serbian_ , one was a hotel guide. Did Miles plan to travel there? Miles had been the one who’d told him to toss the key into the toilet. Why was he researching traditions, all of sudden? Beneath all that information rested a single slip of paper, holding nothing but a date and a time.

_May 8 th,_ 9 a.m.

Alex wrecked his brain. What was so special about that date? Was it one he ought to know? It wasn’t Miles’ birthday, that much he now knew. He wouldn’t scribble his parents’ birthdays down like that. Was that the day he planned on heading to Serbia? And if he did, what for?

Grabbing the lock, Alex headed for the door, found to his great dismay that the polished hardwood floors of the living area inside this fancy-ass penthouse were about as slithery beneath his socks as an ice rink, and after a brief second of panic, fearing he’d drop on his ass, he arrived in front of Miles’ bedroom. Upright.

The door was closed.

A conundrum.

Was he supposed to knock?

He’d seen this man naked. He’d done things to him that were… _phew_! Heat surged through him as he recalled those days.

However, _technically_ , they were still broken up.

_Now what?_

The door got pulled into the room. Miles jerked backward. “Alex…what…”

Miles’ shirt was halfway open, the tie hung loosely around his neck. The buttons were undone nearly to his navel. “Lock,” muttered Alex, wildly distracted by those few bits of bare skin. “Uh…explain?”

Eyes rolled inwardly. _That was some real fine English you’ve just delivered!_

“The…I found the…” _And it’s not getting better!_ “Lock,” growled Alex, frustrated by himself. He tore his gaze away and rediscovered his ability to recall words and form sentences. “I found this in the guest room. You took it off Tower Bridge? How’d you get the key?” There was only one. And they’d tossed it into a pond. “Why? I mean, I know you don’t believe in this.” He wasn’t all that into romantic tropes, either. But this one… _everyone_ did it! “Is it ‘cause we broke up?” _Forever_ , obviously, hadn’t lasted very long.

Not even twitching, Miles remained in place, explaining with a demure voice that, “We didn’t do it the way we were supposed to. We should have tossed the key into the river.” Lids lowered. “You wanted to do it right and I made fun of that. Don’t worry. I was already told I’m stupid for wanting to fix it. But, like, we didn’t speak for weeks. _Months_! And I figured I can’t make it worse. There’s no worse than not being with you. It’s a dumb legend. Like the ladder-shit, or black cats, or whatever. But you don’t fuck with black cats. And…” He shrugged. “Where’s the harm in putting up a lock.”

“In Serbia,” asked Alex, awe-struck, no longer aware of Miles’ semi-dressed state or his intoxicating scent, or his bare feet, or his magnificent body – who was he fooling! Of course, he was aware, he was aware _everywhere_. But his entire, undivided attention lay on Miles’ iridescent eyes, loaded with so much love that it made his legs buckle. “You wanted to fly across the continent to put a lock on a bridge ‘cause of black cats and ladders, even though you don’t believe in it?”

Miles shrugged again, his eyes rolling a little. “Told ya, I was already called stupid.”

Alex shook his head, rasping out through thickness that, “It’s not stupid.”

“Alex…” As though the words awoke him from his frozen state, Miles tilted toward him. An increment at a time. “I love you.”

“I love you!” He charged forward, flung his intentions of going slow as far away as he could, and claimed those lips that were his and only his and would remain his forever, just as the lock said. He’d show that damned padlock just how fucking _forever_ he and Miles were going be! They’d be so bloody forever, dictionaries would need an entirely new word for it! He kissed him relentlessly. Craving him with overwhelming intensity. He kissed him like he’d wanted to kiss him that fateful day months ago, when he’d asked him for his hand and when two seemingly self-assured, confident men had been forced to face the fact that each of them was deeply insecure in his own right.

But not anymore. Miles was prepared to travel the world and put up padlocks and Alex was ready to accept defeat just for a chance to win.

“Don’t get me wrong,” moaned Miles into the arched bend of Alex’s throat. His fingers were doing an astounding job of undoing buttons in record-speed. “I need you more than I need oxygen, but you said…” He halted to feed his hunger for a kiss. “You said we’d have to wait. The date, and being proper—”

“Haven’t you learned anything from me?” Hands fisted into Miles’ hair. “I say a lot of bullshit when the day drags on.”

“You never say bullshit,” disagreed Miles.

Alex laughed. “Liar.” He made them walk toward the bed. “Love me.”

“Always.”

.

.

** Spoiler Chapter 31: **

#

“Can I ask?” Miles' hands glided with gentle moves over the back of Alex's shoulders, easing the tense muscles. “What's it say?”

“I…eh…not sure.”

Leaning forward, over his shoulders, Miles' curiosity got the better of him. Chin tugged into the crook of Alex's neck, he peeked at the letter that he held. Brows furrowed. “He left you a book?”

A snort from Alex. “Did you expect money?”

“No,” tsk-ed Miles. Lips pecked his cheek. “Maybe a car. Or a steel beam.”

“The damn bastard is trying to teach me a lesson from beyond the fucking grave!”

#

Alex wiggled back, further into Miles' arms, and smiled when his man's gentle snores puffed against his ear. Questioning eyes returned to his own hand, which he slipped free from beneath the cover. Even cloaked by the darkness of night he could make out the shape of the golden band running around the finger.

The smile went away. He rolled his eyes, instead.

_Damnit, Miles. What does this mean?!_

#

  
  



	32. Priorities

**#Miles**

**#Thursday**

Miles was swimming in happiness. He was fucking high on it. Lying on top of the massive penthouse bed, limbs stretched afar to each side, he wiggled his head into the mighty fine pillow, sighed in bliss, and pulled his lips into a giant grin. “I’m in heaven.”

Perched between his legs, mouth wrapped around a thick, spit-coated dick, Alex drew his eyes up and chuckled. The vibrations of it crawled through Miles’ body like a slow-rumbling volcanic eruption, starting at the toes and finishing in his fingers, which curled at the sensation. Letting go with a wet plop, Alex swiped his tongue over his lips and smirked. “I’m all about continuing this sex-marathon that we’re having, but I didn’t eat at all yesterday and unless you feed me, I could pass out soon!”

Raising his head, his lips twisted into a sly proposition. “Feed ya, huh?” He winked.

Eyes sparkled as Alex replied with laughter. “Food, Mi. Real food.” He resumed his wicked activities, eager that he was, and because he was so very good and Miles so very responsive, it took hardly two more minutes for Miles to purr in pleasure at the magic that his man brought forth. Fingers tangled in his strands, thumbs caressed him, petted him, his moans were praises of gratefulness. Alex’s reaction was a cheeky turn of his mouth. “I love it when you cum for me.” Crawling up on top of him, nestling in, he reached for the hotel phone. “Yes,” he told the operator, taking a deep breath ahead of his order, “I’d like some breakfast. We’re gonna need croissants, cheese, honey, strawberry jam, toast – well done, butter, grapes, strawberries, coffee, orange juice,…”

Listening with growing mirth, Miles marveled over who was supposed to eat all that. Hands settled on Alex’s butt cheeks and he gave ‘em a good squeeze, delighting at Alex’s little yelp. He nuzzled his way into the bend of his love’s neck, where he placed a very succulent kiss. These small gestures were what he relished most. To be able to express and demonstrate his affection for him. To be able to tell him. Which he did. “Love kissing your neck.”

“Stop that,” hissed Alex, pinching Miles’ waist. And Miles would have done it if it weren’t for that smile on Alex’s face, a happy arch, unfaltering and growing shinier by the second. Alex tsk-ed, “I gotta go to work. Can’t walk around with a hickey the size of the Pacific!”

“Why not?”

Another pinch. Then a chuckle. Until his attention was called back to the phone. “Oh, sorry, yes. That’s it. No, wait! We need champagne. The best you got to offer. Make it a bottle. Put it all on the penthouse.”

“Sure,” muttered Miles, “put me in the poorhouse.”

“Oh, boohoo, you miserable, struggling millionaire!”

“Hey, I’m in the middle of a divorce. I’m basically homeless. I’m living out of a suitcase!”

“You’re living out of bloody mall,” Alex volleyed back as he hung up. “I know stores that carry fewer goods than your fucking guest bedroom does. It’s even more than you stashed at my place!”

“Actually,” admitted Miles with trepidation, feeling awfully profligate for the moment, “that’s only a fraction of my stuff. The rest is at a storage unit.” Shoulders ticked up. “I got a lot. Can’t help it.”

Alex gaped. “There’s even more? How are we supposed to fit all of that into my apartment?” His face blanked at the prospect.

“Your apartment?” Leaning up, supporting his weight on his arms, he frowned. “What do you mean?”

Furrowed brows topped Alex’s quizzical expression. “Uh…you plan on staying here?”

For now? That had been the idea, yes. Then again, a lot had changed in the last eight or so hours and his mind was still trying to catch up to current events. Lower lip pulled between teeth, Miles thought about it. “Moving in together? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Alex sat up, gloriously unconcerned with being nude. “We’ve lived together before. Look, I know we briefly entertained this ridiculous notion of going slow, but if the last two rounds of sex demonstrated anything, then that you and I are not meant for that shit. It’s all or nothing. Let’s be realistic, I don’t plan on spending any upcoming nights alone.”

“I don’t, either,” assured Miles.

Alex’s cheery face brightened up another shade. “Good. Good that we settled that. You’re moving back home.”

 _Home_.

Heaven just got better by an extra marshmallow cloud or two. Miles leaned up and pecked Alex’s lips. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Not possible,” grinned Miles, cheesy and silly and wildly in love.

Placing his hands against Miles’ shoulders, Alex gave him a decisive shove. Miles dropped back onto the mattress. Following suit, Alex settled into his arms, inhaled him, and got comfortable. “Let’s move you home after breakfast. And then we have to figure out how to let our parents know that you and I are a _we_ again.” The thought, it seemed, put a damper on his spirits. “That’s gonna be something,” he muttered.

Oh, that was going to be a big something. Arms entwined around him. After a moment, Miles admitted to a more imminent problem. “Not that I’m interested in doing anything else but you today, but I got a crucial work meeting that I already pushed two times and, uh, it’d be sort of _economically unwise_ ,” he put it carefully, “to do that a third time.” He would if he could, however, a huge investment was at play – one that wasn’t of vital importance to him personally, but one which would go a long way with regards to his company. “I didn’t anticipate this turn of events.” He kissed the top of his head.

“Turn of events,” mocked Alex. “That’s what I am, huh? Priorities…” He pecked Miles’ chest. His palm ran up and down his side with a languid pace. “’tis fine,” he murmured against his skin and conceded that, “to be fair, I slacked in the last few days, too. Ryan is getting a lot of flak from a bunch of clients! I should really drop by the office today. It’s my firm after all.”

“Who is Ryan?”

Alex peered up and shrugged as if confused that he didn’t know. “My assistant.”

“You mean Gary.”

“No, I mean Ryan. Oh, right, you don’t know. Gary quit. Ryan is new. Tall, young, vastly unprepared for the desk he sits at. Judging by first impressions, you’d think the guy could handle anything. Comes across like the mix of a Rugby player and a stock market analyst. Perfect, right? Until he picks up the phone,” grumbled Alex, “speaks up, and you hear his meek, timid voice. It’s not that I don’t have the patience for people who are just starting and are still learning the ins and outs, but I swear, Mi, that one? The other day, he was supposed to order my lunch. The guy from the deli must have said something that freaked him out, ‘cause half an hour later, Ryan came back carrying a burger from _McDonald's_. When I asked about my sandwich, he flinched and made up some shitty lie about a bread shortage in London - burger buns excluded! If only he could come up with better bullshit!”

“Bread shortage…” cackled Miles. “I like him!”

“The bloody burger tasted horrible.” Alex lifted his head and batted his lashes. “Miss your tasty dinners. I know you wanna go out on a date tonight, but…I wouldn’t mind if you cooked for me.”

“I don’t mind cooking for you.” He loved cooking for Alex. There wasn’t another person in the world more zealous to get his hands on Miles’ dishes. “Wanted to show you off. Kiss you in front of people. To show you that I want to be with you in front of the whole world! I always wanted that.” It mattered a great deal to him that this time around, he’d made his feelings and intentions known. Another misunderstanding the size of the last one he would not allow himself to cause.

Alex’s features softened. “Show me off tomorrow. Kiss me anytime you want, today. I’ll flag down a fully loaded double-decker and you can have your way with me in front of it. As long as you cook for me tonight.”

“Have my way with you, huh?” Flipping them over and returning his lips to Alex’s neck, Miles gave the idea some consideration. “We talking first base or…?”

“Hear, hear,” Alex laughed, arching up against Miles, as his breath became shallow and his sighs louder, “somebody’s discovering his wild side.”

A knock on the door interrupted the moment.

Discarded and nudged aside, Miles watched as Alex scrambled out of the bed.

“Finally. I’m starving!”

Exhaling indolently, he rolled back onto his back. “Priorities.”

*

“Ugh,” exclaimed Alex and heaved. “Last box.” The concluding one topped off yet another large pile, a row of which had built up against the wall behind the couch. He dropped it there, wiped his arm across his forehead, and stretched his neck. “Next time, we hire moving men!”

“Next time?” Miles’ gaze flew up from the kitchen table, where he’d dropped a large shopping bag and had begun sorting the items. His forehead creased. “I don’t plan on moving out again. You’re stuck with me, now.”

“Sweet.”

The quick dismissal drew in his curiosity. Eyes probing, he gave Alex a pointed look, a silent request for elaboration.

Alex huffed. “Judging by this chaos, it’s only a matter of time before this place becomes uninhabitable. It’s not exactly spacious.”

“You got a massive closet, two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a living room, a hallway with plenty of space, a kitchen, room for a dining table, and a piano—”

“All of which,” granted Alex, “is something a lot of other people only dream of. Yes, yes, I know. I’m not ungrateful, I’m realistic. You and I aren’t necessarily the people who can restrain themselves when it comes to buying shit. I got my eyes sat on a massive sound system. I remember you star-gazing at some artsy-ass lamp. And these boxes don’t even begin to contain all your shit. You said that yourself. Face it, babe. We’ll have to start looking for a bigger place.”

He knew that Alex had a valid point, yet at the same time, Miles liked this apartment. It was the first one that had become a genuine home to him. It held endless memories. He’d become a different person within these walls. Inside these rooms, a fledgling infatuation had grown into a big love. It’d be hard to part from it all. Grabbing the tomatoes, he placed them into the sink, averting his gaze. “Wanna hire an agent?”

Alex lamented, “They never deliver, you know? You tell ‘em what you want and they sell you something else entirely. Let’s try by ourselves, for now. You okay?”

Nodding, Miles flashed him a quick smile.

“You’re not.” He walked up to him and curled himself around his back. “Tell me.”

“Like this place, ’tis all.”

“Me, too. Because,” said Alex, lips kissing his neck, “you’re here. Hated it in the beginning.” Miles wedged deeper into his arms as Alex continued with his tiny smooches. “It’s not like we need a new place right now. Just sooner or later. And,” he continued, voice falling into a whisper, “I kinda like the idea of building a new home with you. Something that’s ours from top to bottom.”

That lightened his mood and suddenly the prospect of leaving a home to create a new one didn’t seem quite as wistful. Suddenly, surprisingly, it held its merits.

Quite a few of ‘em, actually.

If they were going to look for one at any rate, they might as well find one with a large balcony. Or a garden. Or a pool! Closing his hand around Alex’s, Miles imagined it vividly as he dragged him along to the couch. Green grass, a large patio, light and trees, and maybe even a few of those labor-intense flowers that their mothers seemed to love so much. Then again, he made good money. They could afford a gardener. Oh, why settle for an apartment? Why not get a whole house instead? With a basement! He could buy that high-end _Peloton_ indoor bike that he’d tried out the other day. Maybe install some of those incredible speakers. Also, a customized walk-in shoe closet!

Lips brushed against his and he startled, stunned to find he was sitting on the couch by now with Alex straddling his lap.

“Did you just moan shoes,” asked Alex, a twinkle in his gaze. “Should I get jealous? You havin’ naughty dreams ‘bout leather loafers?”

“Maybe.” Taking his time, Miles let his hands trail around him, which brought Alex nearer and nearer before the both of them toppled completely over and into the cushions. Miles beamed. “Dreamin’ of closets.”

Laughter from Alex. “The good stuff.”

“The best stuff.”

“It’s gettin’ late.” Work had lugged on. They hadn’t been able to get back to the hotel until late in the afternoon. By now, the sun had begun to set and dinner was nowhere in sight. “Shouldn’t you start cooking?”

“You’re so demanding! Patience, my love.” Lips latched on to his jaw. “I wanna fool around, first. What’s so great ‘bout having a boyfriend if I can’t snog him whenever I want!” With that, he leaned in and went right at it.

Alex surrendered without a single attempt at fighting back, but with plenty of laughter. “Snog ahead, then!” Lips glued together, both wiggled and shimmied ‘til they were tangled up on the couch, shirts half undone, shoes kicked off, and breathing turned labored.

“I think,” mused Miles on his languorous path down Alex’s body, “I want a taste of something else, first.” His hand disappeared inside a pair of jeans. “Something big and hard,” he mewled, licking his lips with hunger, “something very large.”

“God, yes,” wailed Alex on a drawn-out exhale. “Do it…”

Sliding off the couch, pulling him into a sitting position, Miles got between his legs and made a rushed job of getting his pants out of the way, beneath which he discovered his reward. “For me?”

He leaned forward. Long fingers wrapped around the beautiful cock. Gazing at the liquid blackness that pooled in Alex’s eyes, spurred on by it, Miles sank his mouth down the warm shaft, gliding devastatingly slow to the base, only to withdraw and do it again. And again. And again. Humming vibrated from his throat.

“Uh…hrrggh.” Alex squirmed beneath him. “So good…so fucking good…” His fingers drove through Miles’ hair.

Miles picked up his pace, still intricately familiar with all the small telltale signs that let him know precisely what Alex wanted and how he wanted it. Licking wicked streaks along the underside, fondling the delicate skin of him, he gave his all to make this one special. Grazed his teeth against his sensitive skin, driving him mad. Used his hand, deployed his finger to—

“Dear, are you— OH MY GOD!”

Miles plopped onto his ass at the screeched and panicked voice booming behind him. That gentle tone, he’d recognize it everywhere. Mortified eyes bulged wide and he stared up at Alex as if waiting for instructions.

Alex hasted to grab a pillow to cover himself. “MOTHER!”

Penny Turner stumbled backward out of the living room. “I…uh…er…lock…door…bye.” And then she was gone.

“We have to break up,” figured Miles, meeting Alex’s shocked eyes with infinite embarrassment. “I can never face your mom again.” Worse! “I can never face my own mom again! She’s gonna find out about this! She doesn’t know I have a sex life!”

What had been a shaken face a second ago was now filling with humor as Alex’s roaring laughter filled the room. Clearly, he’d recovered from this gravely humiliating moment much faster than Miles, who wondered if he ever would. “Well, that just got taken care of! Besides, if anyone should be horrified, it’s me! She only saw the back of your head. She saw a lot more of me!”

“Oh no.” Miles’ cheeks burned up. “Oh God!”

“You look so fucking sexy when you’re blushing.”

He slapped Alex’s thigh, outraged. “Your mom just caught me sucking your dick! How can you think about sex in such a moment?!”

“I,” assured Alex, tossing the pillow and cupping Miles’ face, which immediately calmed him, “can think about sex at any time, no matter what. You should know by now.” He brought the lips together and extended a gentle kiss. “Forget ‘bout it. See the bright side. Our parents know about us, now. We didn’t even have to say a word. Plus, she’ll never use her key again!”

“Yeah?” Miles wasn’t so sure about that.

“Never,” promised Alex, then frowned, second-guessing his own conviction. “Just to be sure, though, I’m changing the locks!”

Jumping to his feet, Miles straightened up. “Guess I should start with dinner and—”

“Nope.” Alex’s arm shot out. Demanding fingers circled around his forearm. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Miles squinted.

Alex squeaked, “My blow-job?!”

Well. Lips bent into a smile. “Suppose it would be rude to leave you so unsatisfied.” He leaned in for a kiss. Then retreated. “Can I blow in the bedroom, behind closed doors?”

“Ugh,” carped Alex. “Fine. Just this once, though. Come tomorrow we’ll have to have you blow me on the couch at least one or two times. It’s like riding a horse after a fall. You only recover by getting back into the saddle as soon as possible. I might have to take the day off and offer myself as…well…your saddle.”

Snorted laughter from Miles, who’d begun dragging Alex off to the bedroom. “How very generous of you!”

“That’s me.”

Miles swept him up in his arms. “Come on, my saddle. Let’s ride you, then!”

“Yee-haw!”

They landed on the bed between loud laughs and giggles.

**#Alex**

**#Friday morning**

After a nice and long tumble in the sheets last night, which had been interspersed with an embarrassing amount of awful Cowboy slang and a startling amount of chuckles, considering they were having sex, he and Miles had munched two very miserable and hastily made sandwiches before crawling back into bed and promptly falling asleep.

The last week had been rough. And nine hours of uninterrupted sleep had done nothing to lessen the crushing fatigue that clung to Alex like a bloody wetsuit – and not in a flattering way. Bloodshot eyes lifted from his half-empty mug of coffee and he hauled a glance at Miles, who sat across from him. Chipper and dressed to the hilt, wearing one of his impeccably tailored suits and the finest Eau de Parfum in existence, he looked the spitting image of wide-awake perfection. It was infuriating. Disgusting! “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Miles’ glance detached from the newspaper he was reading and took its damned time to meet Alex’s. When it did, it was full of mirth. “’scuse me?”

“You were tired, too,” he pointed out, accusingly. “Why do you look so… _functioning_ right now?”

As opposed to himself. Wearing a robe, unkempt hair and nothing else, Alex not only felt dead-ass tired. He looked the part, too.

Miles snickered, “I slept well.”

“So did I,” groused Alex. That had not helped.

“Still not a morning person, huh?” His hand darted out and aligned itself with Alex’s cheek, a loving touch the latter instinctively leaned into. “Go back to bed,” suggested Miles. His words a sizzling whisper, like hot chocolate with extra cream.

“Wish I could. Got to go to work and I have to attend the reading of Edward’s will later today.” He pouted. “Can you drop me off at the office? Too tired to drive.”

Eyebrows furrowed as he looked reluctant. “I gotta leave in a minute.”

“I’ll hurry,” he promised. And resumed his coffee.

After a beat, Miles cleared his throat – too emphatically for Alex’s taste. “Can you hurry _now_?”

Making a show of setting the mug back down, using all the attitude he could muster in this sleepy a state, Alex grunted. “Fine!” And shuffled off to the bathroom. “Stressing me out in the mornin’…”

_*_

_Could this God-forsaken elevator ride any fucking slower?_

Alex adjusted the heavy box in his arms, shifted from one foot to another, and wished he’d be alone inside this damned metal cubicle. That way, he’d be able to let out what he was dying to let out since leaving the fucking offices of fucking dead Edward’s fucking lawyer, which was a giant, roaring, _FUUUUCKKKKKKK!!!!_

But no.

There were other people in this dice-sized little cage and therefore, he was forced to hold his tongue, swallow his fucks, and smile politely.

The last part he didn’t do. He simply hid in the back, behind the box in his arms which was growing weightier by each successive floor, and silently cursed Miles for choosing an office floor near the very top of this fucking skyscraper.

The doors chimed open. People exited and entered. Alex ground his teeth.

“Turner?” boomed a gruff voice next to him. “That you?”

Considering the fact that this tuna can was two meters in diameter and the people in it were all keeping quiet – safe for one idiot – a whisper would have sufficed to capture his attention. Alex tore his features into something akin of a friendly expression, hard as it was to muster one. “Yep. That me.”

“I’ll be damned.” By now, he’d discerned the face of the man who could not speak at a diminished level out of either stupidity or ignorance. It was a former client of his. He couldn’t recall a name and by that Alex concluded he could not have been a particularly profitable one. The man continued, “What’s it been? A year? Two? Anyway, how’s life? Still datin’ that busty redhead you flaunted around back then?”

“Nope. Datin’ a leggy brunette now.”

In front of him, a short-haired blonde in her twenties cast a disapproving glare his way, wordlessly admonishing what she clearly assumed was a very sexist chat.

Alex shrugged her way. “Should see his ass.”

After a beat, she grinned.

Next to him, the guy coughed. “A _he_? Good one, Turner.” He was laughing. A mixture of snorting and barking chuckles, more accurately. “You datin’ a dick? Pff! Best joke I’ve heard in a while. Like you’re one of ‘em little cocksuckers. Listen, call me up. Might have some work for you.”

Once more, Alex adjusted the box in his arms. With an extended sigh, he rolled his eyes in unison with the blonde in front of him and delighted inwardly when the door, at long last, chimed open again. “Carlisle,” he said, by now remembering the dimwit’s name, “I _could_ do that, but I don’t call clients. They call me. Don’t bother though. Since last time we met, I’ve raised my standards and morals and you no longer reach the mark.” After he wiggled through the small crowd of covertly listening elevator-riders, trying to keep the box up without bumping it into anyone, he broke free and faced him. “Try cock-sucking. You might like it.” Then he winked.

The doors moved shut.

Alex turned around. And promptly ran into Miles. “Want to explain that?” asked his boyfriend, eyebrows raised curiously with just a sprinkle of disapproval.

“That comment?” He shoved the box into Miles’ arms. “No.” Stretching his back, then his neck, he let out a long groan. “What a day. Fucked up, I’ll tell ya! Won’t believe it. Swear, the reading of the will? I’ve never seen kids go at each other like a pair of bloody hyenas. Money-hungry assholes, those. Felt bad for Edward’s wife.”

“Alex!” hissed Miles.

“What?” He blinked. “Not like I care. Just saying. Oh, hear this—”

“Alex,” Miles cut in, again.

“I want to tell you! I have to tell somebody! Let’s go to your office, so you can rub my back while I’m bitching.” He marched ahead and smiled genuinely at Doreen when he passed her desk. “You comin'? You want to hear all about it. Trust me. The fucker had an affair and left his mistress a house in France. France,” muttered Alex, still perplexed.

“Maybe he likes the country?”

“Probably cared more about tax write-offs,” he countered. Too late, Alex realized that it wasn’t Miles, who’d quipped. It was somebody else. Another man. Turning around, he spotted one with short-clipped hair, wearing jeans, a tee, and a blazer, whilst scribbling something into a notepad.

Next to the stranger, Miles stood, face buried in one hand while effortlessly holding the hefty box with his free arm.

Two things were interesting, thought Alex.

One, the stranger looked vaguely amused and was _still_ taking notes.

Two, Miles must have worked out a lot in recent months. How the hell could he carry that fucking box with one arm? Changing course, returning to the side of his boyfriend, Alex took the box from him, to check if he correctly remembered the immense weight of it – he did – and put it down on the floor. Distractedly introducing himself to the other guy with a quick, “Hey, I’m Alex,” he poked Miles’ biceps once, then again.

Miles looked up, confused. “What?”

Alex leaned in, whispering, “since when are you so strong?” In retrospect, during the last two days, he had raised him off the floor and held up against the wall with striking ease. Not like he’d ever had any trouble doing that before. But now? Maybe, if he hadn’t been distracted by his cock so much, he’d have noticed sooner. “You doing weight-lifting?”

“Cut it out!” A glare was shot his way.

And a snicker from the stranger. “Interesting.”

Giving Carlisle a nice piece of his mind and seeing Miles had momentarily lifted Alex’s spirits. That was wearing off, now. “Who are you?” he bit out.

“Jim.”

He snorted. “That explains it.”

“Jim Roberts,” Miles supplied, still glowering at Alex and by that further stoking the fires of his bad mood. “Reporter for _The Times_.”

_Press._

The hairs on Alex’s neck shot upright.

“Was working on an article about Miles’ new headquarters in Silicon Valley. Turns out he was hiding a much bigger story. You two are in the habit of, shall we say, _exchanging backrubs_?”

He might as well have said _fucking_.

Jim wore a knowing smile. “What’s your wife saying ‘bout that, huh? I imagine she assumed the _rubbing of backs_ was a marriage-exclusive privilege she shared with you?”

Feeling addressed, Miles met Jim’s poking look with one of exhausted care. “Are you really interest in some flippant remark about backrubs?”

“I care marginally,” said Jim, finished writing down his sentence, and looked up. “But we can return to that later. Why not spend some time talking about Edward Montford’s will? Did you know that most English news outlets couldn’t even find out the name of the lawyer entrusted with it? What a scoop I got, huh?”

“All you got is a vague idea. Nobody ever mentioned Montford,” stretched Alex, “and if I were you, I’d tread carefully. You mention that name and write a salacious story based on hearsay, I’d assume that lawyer whose name you, too, couldn’t figure will very quickly come and introduce himself to you.”

Nonplussed, Jim shrugged. “We’ll see about that. No comment about the will, then? Fine. Let’s return to backrubs.”

“Backrubs,” groaned Miles as he reached for Alex’s arm, “is a horrible euphemism for what we all know you’re saying, don’t you agree?” His free hand cupped the back of Alex’s head and he hauled him in, bringing their lips together and demonstrating with precision what excellent kisser he was.

Alex felt veritably swoony. “Nice one,” he rasped against his boyfriend’s lips once they parted, smoldering as he slipped further into those strong arms of his love.

Miles winked.

Clearing his throat, Jim wondered, “shall I take as confirmation for an impending divorce?”

“Take it as you want,” clipped Miles.

More than comfortable in Miles’ arms, Alex grinned. It was nice hearing his man giving zero fucks about some reporter’s opinions. Nevertheless, that reporter could write a lot of crap, and with that cause a lot of annoying background noise. Directing his attention Jim’s way, he clarified, “Lena and Miles are separated and, yes, they are getting a divorce. Miles and I are a couple. That’s the extent of our comment. And – off the record – I’d really like my backrub now.” Into his shoulder, Miles snickered. “If you wouldn’t mind finishing up with my boyfriend?”

Jim smiled. “We were done.”

“Excellent.”

Five minutes later, handshakes and goodbyes exchanged, Miles lead the way into his office, carrying Alex’s heavy box. “What’s in this thing? Bricks?”

“Books. My new inheritance. Long story.” Alex closed the door, turned to face the wall where the couch used to be, and growled like a starving dog at the sight of a fully-loaded yet unreachable bowl of kibble. “Fuck, Mi. You still don’t have a couch? How do you plan on giving me a proper backrub if you don’t have a couch?”

“Actually,” quipped Miles, dropping the books next to his desk, “I hadn’t planned on giving you one.”

“Well, I want one. We need a couch.” He grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

“Where to? I got a conference call in ten minutes!”

“Have it in the car. We’re going shopping.”

“You weren’t kidding!”

"Nope." Fingers entwined, Alex dragged Miles past artfully decorated furniture arrangements at _Heal’s_ , scanning the space for leather sofas and settling on the ones that looked best-suited for backrubs, naps, and the occasional tumble on a quiet afternoon in the office. “Brown or black?”

“Huh?” Phone to his ear, he frowned. “What’s that? Er, sorry, Lena, go ahead! Yes, agree to the trees if that gets the environmentalists to shut up and – hold up, Al’s glaring at me. Yes?”

“Oh, you’re talking to me, now? Brown or black?”

“For what?”

“Shirts, Mi.” He rolled his eyes. “We’re surrounded by sofas, what do you think?”

“Black.”

“Thanks,” retorted Alex and got to work. Flagging down one of the sales assistants, he had one in mind. “That right there looks promising.”

“Oh, it is one of our most popular models. Try it.” She removed the decorated throw-pillow and invited him to take a seat. “Depending on the type of upholstery you prefer, we have various color options to pick from. One of our current favorite choices is _Marylebone Velvet Mint_ , one hundred percent cotton—”

“Needs to be leather. The last one was…never mind. Leather.”

“In that case, we can offer anthracite, slate, coco, and canella.”

“Anthracite.”

“I like it when a customer knows what he wants. This is the right hand facing corner sofa. Shall it remain this, or—”

“We need it right now. As in, today.”

“Our current waiting period is at two weeks.”

“We’ll pay extra.”

“Two weeks,” she repeated.

“We’ll pay double.”

A pause. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Wonderful.” As she went her way, Alex shimmied deeper into the material. “Oooh, this is good.” The leather was fine and soft and the cushions? “Mmmhhhhhh…”

In front of him, Miles suddenly lost interest in his conference call.

Alex scoffed. “That gets your attention, huh? Me moaning?” Curling his finger, beckoning him closer, he smirked. “Try it, Mi. Very cozy.”

Miles did try it. Sitting down next to him, he ran his hand over the upholstery, arched his brows in pleasant surprise, and nodded. “Nice one.”

“Right?”

Speaking back into the phone, Miles let his callers know, “I gotta go.” At that, he hung up, stuffed the phone away, and bit the corner of his lip in a way that made Alex lose all caution for his surroundings. “One important thing we’ve yet to figure out, though.”

Too diverted by Miles’ mouth to possibly grasp his insinuation, he yelped when Miles flung his leg over his lap and straddled him. “The sex test,” laughed his man.

Giggling, blushing, Alex tried to push him off even though his heart wasn’t in it. It felt too amazing to be kissed and loved by him. In public, too. Unafraid of getting caught. Uninterested in consequences. “You’re tickling me!”

“You like that.” Rubbing his nose into Alex’s neck, he left kisses everywhere. Arms on either side of him, he had him trapped. “This is a really good sofa!”

“Get off of me,” wheezed Alex.

“Gentlemen,” the sales assistant interrupted, wearing an optimistic smile. “We may be able to arrange something.”

“Arrange what?” asked Miles.

“A couch,” hushed Alex and faced her. “Good.”

“You’d have to take this one, we’d sell it to you at an increased rate for we’d be left without a showpiece, but we’d throw in delivery for free.”

“As long as we get it today, it’s fine. Let’s go pay.” This time, Alex put in some effort and did shove Miles off. “Ready, babe?” He held out his hand. “I forgot my wallet. Gimme yours.”

Miles sank into the leather. Dug for his credit card. “I better get some sex for this.”

He tossed him an air kiss. “You get a couch.”

*

Later that night, by the time everyone else had left the office, Alex was seated between Miles’ legs, both naked and wrapped into a faux-fur blanket, luxuriating in this moment of perfection. “This couch was made for sex.”

Miles’ lips stretched wide. “Very well chosen, babe.”

“Thank you!”

“Will you finally tell me why you got this box of books with you?”

“Told you, it’s my inheritance from Edward. The guy is dead and still trying to control my life, no shit.” Alex shifted, to face Miles. “All of ‘em works of the last century, ‘bout how it takes the physical act of building a company and inventing something palpable to strengthen the foundation of a nation. Like I said, ancient crap. Oh, he also left me a letter.” Reaching over to the box, which now rested on the small coffee table in front of them, he filched it out. “Haven’t read it yet. Was too pissed about the books. First editions, by the way. He probably bought ‘em fresh off the printer! Clothbound,” mocked Alex. “That old!” He tore the letter open.

“Can I ask?” Miles' hands glided with gentle moves over the back of Alex's bare shoulders, easing the tense muscles. “What's it say?”

He skimmed over the words. “I…eh…not sure.”

Leaning forward, over his shoulders, Miles' curiosity got the better of him. Chin tugged into the crook of Alex's neck, he peeked at the letter that he held. Brows furrowed. “He really only left you some books?”

A snort from Alex. “Did you expect money?”

“No,” tsk-ed Miles. Lips pecked his cheek. “Maybe a car. Or a steel beam.”

“The damn bastard is trying to teach me a lesson from beyond the fucking grave! Says there’s a hundred Pound note attached to the letter. He wants me to invest in something proper.” Despite Miles' magical fingers, his shoulder muscles stiffened all over again. “He really believed I’m a bloody vulture.”

Arms curled around his middle. “Babe, you’re not.”

“I know that,” he bit back. And deflated. “Sorry for snapping.” Trying to relax into his hold, Alex closed his eyes and tossed the letter away.

“Look at it from his point. He saw potential in you. Or, not that ‘cause you’re already are amazing and insanely successful and all that, but, like he saw _something_. What’s it that he left his own children? Money, cars, stuff he considered bane and a waste of attention? An indulgence? He left you a hundred bucks and believed you could do incredible things with that. All comes back to respect.”

He gave that some thought. “Maybe.”

“You could sell the old books and make do with the profit.”

That got him to laugh. “True, that!”

“Wanna go to Italy with me?”

Alex quickly scrambled around. “What?”

Cupping his face, Miles leaned in for a peck. “We always said we wanted to go. But we pushed it, again and again. I don’t want to push it again, Al. Life’s not going to get any less stressful or whatever. We just have to take the time that we want and make the most of it.” Another kiss. “Can you imagine? You and me, waking up in a sunlit bedroom on the coast of Italy, taking strolls on the beach, and getting a tan on our little boat. Drink wine all day and eat Pasta and make love. We don’t have to go forever. We could start with two weeks. And if we don’t get bored with each other, maybe we can start making plans for this trip around the world that you’ve been telling me about for so long now.”

His old dream.

Take some time off.

Live life and stop thinking about things.

He’d dreamed it often before Miles had come along and his days had stopped being so awful and boring. “You want to do it with me?” Astonished about that revelation, he met his eyes and searched them for doubt or any other emotion. “You got your company and your new headquarters and all those dreams to conquer the world one app at a time.”

“Yes,” said Miles and touched their foreheads together. “And then I almost lost you and I realized how little any of that means to me. I want to be happy with you. I don’t care how or where and whatever. The best part of my day today wasn’t the process-report or giving an interview or even sex. It was watching you in the morning when you’re sleepy and grumpy and annoyed that I make you hurry. ‘cause that’s when you’re truly yourself and you don’t hide that side from me anymore because you know that showing it to me won’t change a damn thing about my love for you. I love that you go and buy couches and it doesn’t matter who pays for it ‘cause it’s no longer mine or yours, but ours. I love that you carried a heavy box of books across town because you wanted to see me and blow off some steam and couldn’t even wait to drop by at home or your office, even though they were both on your way. I love you so much, Alex. The company, all that, it’s great and an amazing extra, but it’s nothing compared to you.”

“That was…” Alex swallowed hard. His heart was beating frantically. “Quite a speech.”

Miles chuckled lightly, tilting his head forward in an adorable way to hide his blushing cheeks.

Bracketing his face with both hands, gently palming his cheeks and running his thumbs over his delicate skin with endless affection, Alex raised it to gaze into his eyes and whispered, “Let’s go to Italy.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded softly. “Italy, the world, everywhere. You and I.”

“You and I.”

.

.

 **Spoiler for the next chapter:** (The last one before the epilogue.)

#

Alex wiggled back, further into Miles' arms, and smiled when his man's gentle snores puffed against his ear. Questioning eyes returned to his own hand, which he slipped free from beneath the cover. Even cloaked by the darkness of night he could make out the shape of the golden band running around the finger.

The smile went away. He rolled his eyes, instead.

_Damnit, Miles. What does this mean?!_

#

“What’s so special about this place?” wondered Miles.

Alex wrapped his arms further around his neck, trying his hardest not to let his nerves get the better of him. “You’ll figure it out when you look to your right.”

#


	33. Ready

**#Miles**

**#Early April**

“Why, yes,” said Miles to the flight attendant, making no effort to dim his good mood. “I’d love another glass of champagne.” Three weeks of sunning on the coast of Italy, making love to Alex, and hanging out on a luxurious yacht had drained him of all that was sad and stressful and solemn. Waking up every morning wrapped and cuddled into Alex’s arms had done shit to him. It had cleansed him, in a sense. It had washed away all the bad feelings and troubles and worries and fears of the last few months and what remained was light and good and sparkling. He was a giant ball of sunburn and happiness. And buzzed on liquor. Turning to his right, to the drowsing figure by the window, he nuzzled into his neck and hummed him awake. “Want anythin’? Champagne? Water? Me?” Brows wiggled.

Alex giggled. “Not now, babe.” Pulling Miles’ arm around his shoulders, he nestled in. “I don’t need anything. Thank you,” he assured the attendant, who was professional enough not to remark on the no doubt annoying in-love couple in front of her and who left quietly after that. “You’re very frisky today.” Miles played coy when Alex playfully swatted his hand from his thigh. “What’s with you?”

“Life is perfect,” chirped Miles and dove for a quick kiss. “Love ya.”

More laughter from Alex. “How much champagne did you have, eh?”

He stuck out his tongue, accidentally licked Alex’s cheek, and because he did not know how many glasses he’d had, which meant he’d had quite a few, he licked his cheek again. On purpose, this time. “That many. Hey, how come you had none?” Come to think of it, he’d been awfully quiet during the whole flight. “Are you alright? Are you sad that our vacation is over? Want me to tell the pilot to turn the plane around? I’ll do it!”

Tightening his hold on Miles’ hand to keep him from it, Alex grinned. “I know you would. But you’re not going to. I’m fine.” To prove it, he kissed him. “Just lost in thought, I guess. Got an email this morning. Remember last year, when we celebrated Edward’s deal and he told me ‘bout this round of lectures that a friend of his was putting together?”

“Nope.” Miles had only a vague recollection of that night. “I remember the suit you wore. You looked smokin’. And I remember what we did when we got home.”

“See,” quipped Alex with a laugh, “I’m not so sure you do. I think you’re a little blitzed right now.”

“I’m a little horny right now,” whispered Miles. Sinking his face into the crook of Alex’s shoulder, breathing him in, he quickly corrected himself. “Very horny. Tell me ‘bout the lectures.”

“I was offered to give one. Not just hypothetically. Set date and all.”

“Alex! That’s awesome.” Much like a pop-up ad did, an image flashed up in his head. Alex in a tweed jacket with elbow patches, wearing glasses. “‘m very, very horny. You’ll make a phenomenal teacher. Everyone will love you!”

“Not a teacher. A single lecture. Not even sure if I wanna do it. It’s _The London School of Economics_ ,” he stressed as if giving his first reason against it. “I went there. It’s a fancy-ass school. A lot of really smart people teach there. Besides, Edward set it up and…” He sighed. “That’s just the kind of thing he’d do. Force me into a position where I’m bound to talk about him in a flattering manner. The topic of the lecture would, _of course_ , be his company and my involvement in the deal.” His eyes rolled. “Self-serving as always.”

“You do realize that you’re a very smart people, too, right? Person, I mean. People person.” A wrinkle appeared between his brows as he pinched his eyes together. “Smart people.” Still wrong. “Smart person.” That was the one he was after. _Finally!_ Why were there so many words in existence? “I think I had too much champagne.”

At that moment, the new glass arrived.

“ _I_ will take that,” said Alex with a pointed look and took it from the attendant with a warm smile. “And _he_ will take a coffee.”

She left with an amused nod.

Settling back in, Alex reached for Miles’ hand which hung over his shoulder, and twirled the gold band around his pinkie. “I shouldn’t do it.”

As Alex played with his ring, Miles ran his thumb over the knuckles. “If you don’t want to do it, that’s your decision, babe. But do you not want to do it ‘cause Edward set it up or do you personally not want to do it?”

Alex stilled, stunned by Miles’ words. “For somebody who is three sheets to the wind, that was a damn good question.”

Chuckles from Miles. “I’m a smart people, too. People. Person. Damnit!”

Twisting his head to the side, Alex kissed his lips. “You’re the smartest drunk I’ve ever met.”

A beaming smile from Miles. “Right?”

  
  


**#End of April**

“Oh, hell!” Barked Miles, the loud drone of his voice echoing through the entire apartment. “This fucking chaos – it’s bloody annoying. Seriously, we have to figure something out!” Giving the large open box filled with books a mighty kick, it slithered across the floor ’til it hit the wall with a dull thud. “Ugh, this blows.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. All day, he’d labored away, cleaning out the guest room, assembling two Swedish shelves, cursing the fella whom they were named after, and trying to tame the wild array of unsorted boxes which by now were not only getting on Alex’s nerves but on his as well. The damned guest room was spacious, yes, but not a solution. Some boxes, he’d been able to unpack. Some he’d tossed out of spite. And some…well…some he’d sneakily hidden inside the broom closet at the end of the corridor of Alex’s apartment floor. “I know I’m the one who wanted to stay here,” he lamented on his way into the kitchen where Alex sat on a stool staring at his laptop. “But it just isn’t working anymore. We need that new place sooner rather than later.”

“Mmh,” muttered Alex.

Miles quirked a brow, not hearing the sort of resounding agreement he’d counted on. “You listenin’ to me?”

“Uh-huh.”

 _Yeah, sure._ “I’m naked and dancing. Wanna watch me?”

“Just order somethin’.”

Miles dropped his head and groaned. “Alex, it’s eight p.m., this has to stop.”

“Huh?”

Walking up to him, he stretched his arms, reached around him, and plucked the laptop from beneath his hands, to shut it and set it down three feet away.

Now, Alex reacted. “Hey, I’m not done yet.”

“You were done last week. Nah-uh, hands away from it.” He stepped between his boyfriend and his clicky device.

“Miles!”

“Nope. You wanna touch something, touch me.” To make it easier, he got nearer and wedged himself between his legs. Alex was miffed. Obviously. But Miles was stubborn. Grabbing his chin between thumb and index finger, he aimed his face his way and gave his refuting lips a theatrical smooch. “There. Take that.”

“This isn’t funny,” grumbled Alex, stretching his arm out to reach the laptop. “I only got twelve hours left. The lecture is tomorrow. My old economics professor will be there. He called me just to let me know. What if I make a fool of myself, huh? I have to read my script again. It’s not perfect, yet. What if there’s a typo and I misspeak tomorrow? What if I say daffodils when I mean to say dividends? Everyone will laugh.”

“Yep.”

Alex stared at him with wide, expressive eyes. “You agree, then! So can I have my laptop back?”

“No.”

“What?”

“Out of curiosity, did any of your professors ever misspeak when you were a student?”

“Yes,” said Alex emphatically. “All the time. I was an awful student. Rude and dismissive. I laughed each time they did! Made fun of ‘em with others. Joking about it.”

“You were human. Like everybody else. Did you learn anything despite it?”

“So much!”

“What’s the big deal, then? You really think you haven’t caught all the daffodils and other typos yet? You’ve been spell-checking and proof-reading for days, now. You have given your lecture to me twice. You’ve given it to Jamie. You had Lena check it to see if your jokes were funny and you gave it to Janine and to Sally to fact-check. Babe, you’re done. You’re ready. There’re only three things left to do now.”

Alex wore a pout and crossed his arms defiantly. “What’s that?”

“Have a bite to eat, kiss me, and go to sleep.”

The pout wore off and the arms slackened. “Kiss first.”

Miles was ready to tackle that task. “Com’ere.” After reveling in some thorough and marvelous making out, something he’d thirsted for all day, he brushed his nose along his cheek before settling fully into Alex’s arms, which now curled around him and held him close. “Feelin’ hungry?”

“Nah. Just a bit. Like…sandwiches?”

“Alright.”

“Hey, were you gone earlier?”

His forehead fell against Alex’s shoulder. “Went to Ikea. Bought two shelves. I hauled two giant boxes in here. You didn’t notice?”

Alex shrugged cheekily. “Was busy tweaking.”

“I admire your focus.”

“Hold on, you brought even more shit into this apartment? Miles!”

“It takes shit to organize the other shit.” Yes, he was aware of how bad that sounded. “Failed. In case you’re looking for your rubber boots and the Christmas lights, I’ve hidden ‘em in the broom closet.”

A snort from Alex. “We have to find a solution.”

“Soon.”

  
  


**#Alex**

Later that night, in bed, Miles tried to find one. “My mother suggested we move into the fancy house ’til we find our own bigger place. Not ideal, but…better. Or we just store a bunch of our stuff there. What do you think?”

“On page four, in the second paragraph, I make a remark about the pitfalls of rushed vertical mergers and I’m not sure I explained it well enough. What do you think?”

“I think you and I should stop thinking.”

Alex let out a wail. “It’ll be a disaster!”

“Hey.” Miles wrapped his arms around the man in front of him and snuggled up against his back. “You’ll do fine. Better than that.”

Once more, Alex went to play with Miles’ ring. Thank God he never took ‘em off. They were his own personal stress relief, better than breathing exercises and chocolate. As long as he could twirl it, he was fine. “You’re awfully confident in my skills as an orator. In case you don’t remember, you and I broke up for three months ‘cause I got my tongue tied into knots!”

“We broke up ‘cause we were _both_ stupid, it had nothing to do with your tongue. This one’s different,” hushed Miles, his soothing voice calming Alex’s raw nerves. “This time around, it’s about math and business slang and boring books. You love that shit. For somebody who didn’t want to give this lecture in the first place, you’re very keen on doing it well.” He kissed his cheek. Alex smiled. “You like it, don’t you. The idea of teaching?”

“No,” mumbled Alex, wishing he’d sound more convincing. Admittedly, the thought of standing in front of people who thrived to learn something had its merits. “Maybe.” The ring dropped from Miles’ little finger. When Alex moved to put it back, Miles took it from him. “What are you doin’?”

“Puttin’ it where it’s needed.” He slipped it onto Alex’s ring finger while pressing his lips right to the corner of his smiling mouth. “Wear it. This way, when you’re nervous tomorrow, you can twirl it and think of me. Think of me naked. In a bathtub. With soap bubbles. That helps.”

Alex burst into laughter, endlessly grateful that Miles never took himself too seriously and could make him laugh in any situation. “How’s it gonna help me having a sex fantasy in front of a bunch of students?”

“I don’t know. But when I’m sitting in the board room, listening to a flock of smart people telling me I spend too much money, thinking ‘bout sex with you sure helps me. Makes me not listening to them.”

“How on earth are you this bloody successful?” It bewildered the shit out of Alex. It was no longer just the bloody dating app. That started as an accident and grew from there. Ever since knowing him, though, Miles had branched out into other apps as well, this time with deliberate intentions. The cheating app, morally wrong as it was, was thriving in the States. The gay dating app was attracting a bunch of attention for being strikingly popular, by that feeding its own myth. And now, Miles was looking into expanding into different sectors as well. Investors were lining up to meet with him! “You’re a marvel, you know that?”

“I’m just lucky. Case in point, I got you.” Another kiss.

Alex gazed at the ring on his hand. “What if I lose it? It means a lot to you.”

“ _You_ mean a lot to me.”

“I’ll return it tomorrow, right after the lecture. I’ll be careful not to drop it.” He had a habit of losing stuff.

“Don’t want it back. It’s yours. Something of mine for you to keep. Forever.”

“Miles!” Alex strained his neck to meet his eyes. “I can’t take it. That’s something of great personal value to you!”

“ _You_ are of great personal value to me.”

“Stop turning everything I say into something sweet.”

“Why?” laughed Miles. “You don’t like compliments?”

“I love compliments,” said Alex. “But my mind is stuck on tomorrow and I can’t return ‘em.”

“You don’t need to!” Another kiss. Then a rub of noses. “Let’s go to sleep. You need to rest. Can’t have you yawn in front of students, right?”

Alex stiffened. “What if I don’t hear my alarm? What if I’m late? What—”

Miles cut his rambles off, adding his tongue to his wicked lips. “Night, babe. I will make sure you wake up in time. Promise.”

“Fine,” grouched Alex and settled back in. “Night.” Only to perk up again. “Can we have sex first?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because your head isn’t into sex tonight. And if it goes like last night, you’ll stop at a very crucial point, grab your phone, and google some business term or shit like that. Can’t have that again. My ego is very fragile.”

He scoffed roaringly into the bedroom. “It is not!”

“Sleep. Please.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex relented. He wiggled back, further into Miles' arms, and smiled eventually when his man's gentle snores puffed against his ear. Questioning eyes returned to his own hand, which he slipped free from beneath the cover. Even cloaked by the darkness of night he could make out the shape of the golden band running around the finger. How lucky he could count himself to have somebody like Miles, who needed nothing but a smile to get Alex’s overwrought mind to rest.

The smile went away as his thoughts zoomed in on a new topic. One far more complicated and littered with landmines. So much for rest! Had he just been proposed to? _Damnit, Miles. What does this mean?!_

  
  


Thanks to what Alex had spent the entire last night trying and failing to decipher – whether or not the ring Miles had bestowed upon him was an engagement ring, a first step toward engagement, or entirely unrelated to anything resembling an engagement, he’d not gotten a minute of sleep. He was yawning nonstop. Tired feet carried him from one room of the apartment to the next, scrambling for clothes, for shoes, for a bag, for his laptop, for that fucking small USB flash drive onto which he’d copied a backup of his presentation and his lecture. He couldn’t recall where he’d placed his keys. He’d realized embarrassingly late that his feet hadn’t shrunken overnight but that he was wearing Miles’ black biker boots and not his own. He tried to recall where he’d placed his coffee mug.

From the kitchen table, a hand shot up, holding a mug. “Here.”

It was his mug. “You took my mug?”

“Nope. You put it here.”

“Ah.” He drank some. Then spotted something on his clean, untouched breakfast plate. A small lunchbox. “What’s that?”

“Lunchbox.”

“Duh!”

“You asked,” murmured Miles.

“ _Why_ is there a lunchbox.”

“It was invented to store lunch, I presume.”

“I know I once told you that you’re cute when you’re doing this, but…I lied.”

“Liar.” Miles grabbed the lunchbox and held it up for him. “For you. Sandwich, grapes, and a chocolate bar. Keys are by the front door, your laptop is fully loaded and on the sofa, and the five jackets you took out last night and couldn’t make up your mind about are all neatly aligned on hangers in the hallway. My personal favorite is the black leather one. Fits the boots you’re wearing. By the way, I applaud your choice of not wearing a stuffy suit.”

Alex blew out a stressed breath. “I should have worn a suit, right? You’re right. I need to change. I look like a student. A rich student. A pretentious prick. I should really wear a suit.”

“‘cause nothing says poor, struggling professor than _Saint Laurent_ suits and pressed silk shirts.”

Staring at the coffee inside his mug, Alex had to concede to the bleak truth. “I have nothing to wear.”

“Go naked.”

“Miles!”

“You look fine.”

“I’m late.”

“You’re not. You’re exactly on time. I checked the traffic news. No accidents, no pile-ups, no constructions on your way. If you want, Frank is waiting outside to take you, in case you want to read your notes once more.”

“No,” said Alex briskly, feeling humored and mocked. Only to repeat himself and say it much nicer a second time once giving the lines on Miles’ face a more thorough inspection and judging them free of ridicule, yet full of genuine care. “Nooo. Thank you. Don’t want the students to see me get out of a fancy car.”

“‘cause yours are such old crocks,” teased Miles after all.

“‘m taking the bike.”

Miles looked up. Amused. “Sexy. Wanna impress ‘em, eh?”

He was right! “I should take the tube,” figured Alex.

Muttering something into the coffee mug he was sipping from, he ignored Alex’s glare and reached for the newspaper. “Take the bloody bike and stop thinking everything over. Get going. Unless you want to be late?”

“Already gone!” Halfway down the hallway, Alex turned tail, dashed back into the kitchen, and straddled Miles’ lap with a swiftness and precision that it rivaled a stripper’s talent. “Kiss first.” And then he kissed his baffled mouth, hard and passionate and too hurried to think twice about restraint, blue balls, or the fact that Miles tasted like coffee with caramel. _Yummy_. “Gotta go. Love ya!”

“Love ya too,” called Miles after him.

  
  


**#Miles**

“I’m Linda,” said Linda, a young and beautiful woman around twenty, batting her lashes at him in that telltale, ‘you know you want me’ kind of way. “You’re a student? You look older.”

“I am older,” assured Miles, replying with a definite ‘I know I _don’t_ want you’ kind of way. Polite but resolute. “Too old.” Leaning against the brick wall of the corridor in front of the lecture hall, he cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Are you even twenty-one yet?”

“Age is such an archaic institution,” she declared. “Are you a professor, then? I study macroeconomics. You?”

“I’m rich. I own a global company. I’m in the middle of getting a divorce. Also, I’m gay.”

“Labels, who needs ‘em. What company? Are you hiring?”

“No.” Yes, actually. But not this one. One eye aimed behind her, to the door, he kept sneaking glances inside. Alex had finished his lecture ten minutes ago and was still swarmed by students who all wanted to have a chat with him. He looked positively glowing, surrounded by mini-economists dying for his words of wisdom.

She cleared her throat in a blatantly obvious way to regain his attention. “Nice suit. That _Gucci_?”

“I thought you didn’t care for labels.”

“Not all of ‘em. _Hugo Boss_?”

“ _Tom Ford_.”

“Love _him_.”

“Go tell him, then.” Behind her, Alex emerged from the lecture hall. “Babe!” He sidestepped her and swept his arms around him for a fierce hug. “What a rousing lecture. You were incredible! Everybody loved you!”

Startled and wide-eyed, Alex stared at him. “You were there? Did you listen? I thought you had a meeting with some lawyers.” His expression softened as the shock subsided. “You came and watched?”

“Not gonna miss your first lecture! Took time off for you.” He snagged a kiss. “You were amazing! Hid in the back. All the students were paying you rapt attention. They were scribbling down notes and asking questions…one would think you had something important to say!”

Alex slapped his shoulder with a chuckle. “It was so much fun!”

“Told ya!” Another kiss, this one longer. “I’m insanely proud of you. You rocked this!” This time, as he kissed him, his lips lingered. “My superstar,” whispered Miles against his smiling mouth.

“Can’t believe you really came.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“I was really nervous.”

“I know.”

Eyebrows drifted up as Alex cast a glance to his side. Miles followed his lead and he, too, spotted the students in the vicinity, watching with grins and perked ears the couple in front of them. “We’re attracting an audience. I think,” suggested Alex, “it’s time we leave.” Slowly detangling from Miles, he shrugged his jacket on and pulled out his shades.

Miles pulled his smile into a wide grin. “Wanna make a cool exit, huh? I’m game.” He rose to his full height, adjusted the knot of his meticulously crafted tie, and reached for his own aviators that sat in his chest pocket. He slid ‘em on, smirked Alex’s way, and tilted his head to the side with impishness. “Will you let me carry your bag?”

Alex held out his fingers. “Only if you hold my hand.”

Extending his wiggling ones, he took the bag with one hand and linked his free one with Alex’s. “Aren’t we a hot couple?” It was all fun and game, but it rang true, nonetheless. Alex veritably smoldered at him and Miles could give his life just watching him do that.

As they reached the elevator, not entirely unaware of the looks of envy that had been tossed in their direction, Alex tugged on Miles’ hand and leaned in for a quick peck. “Actually,” he confessed a bit sheepishly, “we’re a very busy couple. We got invited to dinner tonight. By the department head. He wants to discuss future lectures. Guess he really liked what I said. Anyway, I told him I had a dinner reservation with you and he told me to bring you with me.”

“Our first official invite as a couple?” Miles’ mien brightened at the prospect. “How exciting!”

Alex slipped into his arms. “You’re coming with me, then?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Stuffy people, all that? I’m not eager to go but I have to.”

“You can be stuffy, too. You are aware of that, right? It’s part of your charm.”

He shrugged coolly. “I know.”

Laughter.

“Hey,” said Alex, “how are chances you got a bit of time left? Or do you need to return to the office right away?”

“Took the rest of the day off for you.”

“Yes?” Sunlight exploded on Alex’s face and as Miles found himself drowning in the sheer size of his love’s smile, Alex grabbed his hand once more and pulled him along, into the arriving elevator. “Hurry, then. I want to show you something.”

  
  


“Babe, I trust you, but riding on the back of your bike in misty April with my eyes closed is pushing it. I’m getting woozy. Where the hell are you taking me?”

The bike slowed down. “We’re here, relax. Eyes stay closed,” warned Alex as he parked at what Miles only assumed was the side of a quiet road. He couldn’t hear any cars or traffic. Which was interesting, considering they were still or at least near the center of London judging by the time it took to get here. Miles felt him get off the bike. “Should I get up too, or—”

“Careful,” cautioned Alex and moved to his side. “Hold my hand. I’ll help you.”

“Why can’t I look?”

“You can in a minute. I have to prepare you first.”

“Oo-kay? For what?”

“I kinda want to spend a whole lot of money. I want _us_ to do that. I found something I think you might like. But it’s sorta big. Pretty, but _big_ ,” he emphasized again.

“Is it a car?”

“Bigger.”

“A plane?”

“Let me just talk for a sec, alright?”

“Go for it.”

“For a plane?” Alex huffed. “Quiet, my love. You’re messing with my head. I might have been very busy in the last few days—”

“Weeks,” corrected Miles.

“Weeks,” conceded Alex. “But I did hear you cursing and yelling and groveling because of all the boxes. I agree. It’s time we change something. I just don’t think moving into your parents’ house will help. Last year, before Christmas, I had this meeting with a client. He took me to his home and showed me around his sprawling new mansion and told me how he’d bought it as a gift for his wife and all that. Turns out he’s broke. And he needs to sell it sooner rather than later. He’s desperate to get rid of it. I’m not all that into the house ‘cause it’s really massive and gaudy and we’d have to renovate and redo a lot of stuff. But there’s one part of it that makes me think it’s a good investment, so to say.”

“What’s that? A pool?” asked Miles giddily. “Buy it. Anything to get us out of our hell of boxes.” 

“Wait, will you? Maybe you don’t want the part that I’m about to mention.”

Snickers from Miles. “Who doesn’t like a pool?”

“It’s not a pool,” snarked Alex.

“A helipad?”

“It’s not the White House.”

“Buckingham Palace?”

Alex cursed under his breath. Miles sensed fingers crawling over his face, which came to rest over his eyes. “Turn to your right.” He did. “Now look.”

He did that, too. They were standing at the side of a street that was lined with trees. Upon closer inspection, he became aware of expensive cars parking along the sides and old but well-aged houses with fences. “Is this like a gated community or something? It’s quiet here.”

“Yes. That, too. Look straight ahead.”

“What house am I looking for? Which one is it?”

“It’s not a house.”

“I thought this was about a house.”

“It is,” drawled Alex annoyed. “The house is behind you. I want you to see something else.”

“I want to see the house.”

“It’s the building with the yellow fence.”

“How can I look at it if it’s behind me.”

“Straight. Ahead,” ordered Alex, words clipped. “The yellow fence. See it?”

“The big building?” He squinted, trying to make out the details. “That a… I can’t tell. What is it?”

“The best kindergarten in the city.”

He still didn’t get it. “And you want me to look at the fence because you like the col—” Miles became silent, then, as the words hit his consciousness. Eyes shot toward Alex, who had his gaze firmly fixed on the pavement. Reaching out, tapping a finger beneath his chin, he lifted it. “Come again?”

Alex still didn’t meet his eyes. A tentative shrug rolled off his stiff shoulders. “Not saying that I want us to…you know…do that. Like, get one or something. I want to travel the world with you. Take spontaneous trips with you. Party and live life, all those things.” The smallest ‘but’ of the world slipped from his lips. “But…maybe…someday. In a while. Who knows? Never say never, right? And I just thought…you know…it’s a good house. Available…and – maybe it sells really fast if we don’t take it. We don’t have to take it! It’s too big anyway. I does have a pool, not that it matters. It’s got plenty of rooms if you want more than one. Or none at all, like I said, it’s like years away. Maybe you’ve fallen out of love with me by then an—”

He kissed him.

Miles simply kissed him. There was nothing else he could think of to stop him from rambling on. Besides, he looked so bloody adorable, waffling on and on about stuff that Miles could hardly comprehend in the first place since he was still preoccupied with the fact that this perfect man inside his arms wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, Miles Kane, and even have a baby with him. Possibly even two! Between brushes of lips and pants for air, Miles palmed Alex’s cheeks and smiled against his tender, almost anxious expression. “Let’s buy the house.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet,” remarked Alex quietly, wearing the tiniest grin.

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s buy it.”

“Because it has a pool?”

Miles shook his head gently. “‘cause of the kindergarten.”

“You won’t fall out of love with me?”

“Never. I can promise you that.”

A pair of unbelievably strong arms shot out and snaked around his neck, nearly choking him. If he died today, he’d die a happy man. Miles let Alex squeeze the last of oxygen out of him and returned the favor with equal fervor.

As quickly as Alex had started the hug, he ended it. And leaned back with quizzical eyes. “Are we engaged?”

“What?”

“Last night?” vexed Alex. “You put a ring on my finger. Didn’t get an ounce of sleep because of it. Are we engaged or not?”

“Do you want us to be?”

“Ye—” Alex stopped himself. “That’s not what I asked.”

Miles dove for another kiss and stole this one from Alex’s dazed lips. “Nope.”

“Why not? I mean, okay.”

“We’re not engaged ‘cause I’m not properly divorced yet. Once I am, I will happily drop to my knees.”

Alex sidled closer, wiggling his brows. Now that he had all his answers, or most of ‘em anyway, his world had righted itself and he walked it on steadier feet again. His swagger returned. “To pop the question or to…” Eyes shined.

Grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket, Miles hauled him against his body. “Both. What do you want first?”

“I’ll think ‘bout it,” jested Alex, enjoying himself. “I’ll let you know.”

“Do that,” laughed Miles, regaining his own footing in this suddenly vastly altered world of theirs. They had gone from making travel plans and considering a permanent living arrangement to buying a house and taking the first step toward family planning. “Guess we’re together forever from now on.”

A cheeky nod from Alex. “You’re my fairytale prince.”

“And you’re my happily ever after.”

“Wanna see the house? I got the key.”

“Can we have sex in it?”

“Tsk!” Alex snorted. “Of course. It’s ours, now.”

“Which one is it,” asked Miles while turning around with Alex in his arms.

“That one.”

“The…wow. That’s big.”

“And sorta expensive. Good thing I’m marrying rich, huh?”

“We might have to postpone the plane-plans, then.”

Alex hit his arm. “You can do both. And buy a spaceship with the change. Two!”

“True.” He pulled him toward the gate. “What more does it have?”

“Pool, garage, garden, a bunch of rooms…”

“Bought the house, huh?” One arm wrapped around Katie, Jamie raised the other one and clinked his glass of whiskey with that of Miles’. “Congrats. Big step.”

Miles nodded. It was a big step, committing to each other. But he was optimistic. The last few weeks had sharpened his view of the world. What had been blurry once and distant then was clear-cut and in high definition now: This was his life, his one, and only life. He wanted to live it in the single way it deserved to be lived: happily. That required Alex. And he was determined to make sure Alex experienced it the same way. “Movin’ in next week. Countin’ on your help, of course.”

Outside the club they’d all gathered to have a bit of a celebration, Matt slapped Jamie’s arm and laughed. “Hear that, lawyer boy? Heave boxes and work up a sweat. Actual work. Scared yet?”

“Scared of having to do all the heavy lifting by myself. Knowing you, you’ll end up cutting your finger on a piece of paper and require intensive medical care for the rest of the day.”

Listening to Matt and Jamie bantering back and forth, Miles wore a distant smile but kept his eyes out on the street. Alex was still missing from their group, having run late at work. He should arrive soon. Hopefully. He’d seen almost none of him all week, having been busy at work himself. One hand in his pocket, the other around a glass of whiskey, he shifted on his feet and keep on waiting.

Next to him, Felix, regulator at day and somewhat-friend after hours, quietly asked, “bought a house?”

Not entirely sure how or why he was there, that was the part Miles wanted to ask him about more than anything. But he wasn’t rude. He was kind. Well-raised. He bit his tongue. “Yep.”

“Just for yourself? ‘cause Jamie mentioned ‘commitment’ and I heard about your divorce – sorry ‘bout that, by the way. Bad stuff happens, I guess. Met a new one?”

“Woman? No.” It was no longer a secret that he and Alex were dating, however, it didn’t surprise him that Felix hadn’t heard about it. One, the guy wasn’t on top of anyone’s people-to-gossip-with list and two, Felix wasn’t the fastest one to catch on even if he’d come across the rumor. A few weeks ago, Miles’ interview had come out and it was littered with vague insinuations about him being a ‘changed man’ and ‘enjoying the freedoms of a man in love with a new partner’. There had been countless run-ins that he and Alex had had with business partners and others. Most of those had gone over well. The one or two that had felt inclined to remark upon that ‘homosexual phase’ of theirs were no longer considered business associates in any sense of the word. Giving Felix a tad more attention and by that reluctantly pulling more of it away from the street and the arriving cabs, Miles shrugged. “Met someone. Not met,” he corrected quickly, “uh—”

“What about Alex?”

“What about him?” His attention was divided fifty-fifty, now. The curious half was aimed at Felix. “He and—”

Felix, once more, cut him off. “Rumor has it Alex is into guys these days.”

“Not guys _plural_ , just one—”

“You’ve heard the rumor, too, then?”

 _Let me finish and you will hear from me that it’s_ not _a rumor and that Alex is into_ me, thought Miles testily, getting annoyed at constantly being talked over. But even his thoughts got short-stopped.

Felix whipped his head towards the street. “He’s coming too, right? Alex? Tonight?”

“Yes…?”

The oddest smile appeared on his face. “Good. Well, well.”

Miles tried again. “About the rumor—”

“Oh, he’s here. Look, he’s arriving.”

Yes. _That’s_ my _boyfriend getting out of that cab_ , vexed Miles inwardly. Only to lose interest in Felix’s not so subtle fascination by Alex at the sight of his man exiting the car. He looked edible. Tight black jeans, white button-up shirt with the top ones undone, leather jacket, messy hair, boots. And on his face rested an expression of smug confidence and the worst, best intentions. Eyes immediately met and Alex grinned. It was sedate, almost. Hidden. Secretive. The kind that said, ‘just wait ‘til I get you home…’

“Felix?” Licking his lips, Miles’ hand shot to the side. “Hold my glass, would you?”

“What, why?” He took it, startled.

“’cause I’m about to be kissed. And I need my hands for that.”

In that moment, Alex reached Miles, grabbed his waist, and kissed him. Stumbling backward by the impact, meeting the wall two feet behind him with his back, most likely scratching the leather of his own jacket with rubbed against the rough, cold bricks, Miles couldn’t possibly care less. That hot set of lips slanting over his own were all that was on his mind. Tongues licked against another. Moans escaped. Fingers curled into fabric. 

And then, after losing his breath, after getting light-headed, after leaning back and capturing Alex’s pitch-black eyes with his own, Miles smiled like _Winnie The Pooh_ at the sight of a huge bowl of honey. “Missed ya.”

Far from hurried, hands slid down his abdomen. Warm palms, spreading heat. “Missed ya, too,” grinned Alex. One arm slid around Miles’ waist, the other he let fall to the side, then turned to face the others. “Hey, guys.”

Jamie, Matt, and Katie, all used to it by now, barely shrugged.

Felix was gaping. “What the…?”

Miles pushed away from the wall, taking his smoking hot boyfriend with him. “If you had let me finish, I’d have told you. It’s not a rumor. Alex is gay. So am I. And he’s into me.”

“I’d say I’m a little more than _just_ into you,” said Alex. Then smirked. “Somewhat.”

Miles pinched his ass.

“They’re dating,” drawled Matt from the sidelines.

“Soon to be married,” added Jamie, voice filled with indifference.

“Can we go inside, now?” wondered Katie.

Matt, once again. “Yeah, it’s all _veeery_ romantic. And boring. Come on, Felix. Let’s go in.”

“Sally, Janine, and the others are already waiting for us,” reminded Katie.

“Eh…” Felix followed reluctantly. “What about—”

“Them?” Jamie snorted. “Need to kiss some more first. No point in waiting for ‘em.” He put a hand on his back. “Come on.”

Miles, watching their group of friends make their way inside, turned to Alex once they were out of sight, cast his sparkling net of attention and affection out only to catch him and reel him in, one kiss at a time. “You look hot.”

“’m wearing your jacket.”

“That’s the reason then.”

Fingers entwined as Alex laughed. “Ready?” Another kiss.

Miles nodded. “Let’s go.”

.

.

**Spoiler Epilogue**

#

Alex dropped his forehead to the hollow between Miles' shoulderblades, mumbling against his back, "we'll need a bloody truck to get that shit home. Who thought it'd be a good idea to let 'em buy this stuff for us?"

"You did," tossed Miles back, dry and curt. "You said, let's celebrate Christmas at our place. You said, let's have a big dinner. You said, let's get some extra plates and—”

"I got it." His arms curled around Miles' middle. He raised his head, tucked it into the curve of Miles' shoulder. Then grinned. "Wanna sneak into the bed department? Test some pillows?" 

"Why not the men's department and find a changing room?"

"Alright!"

Laughter from Miles. "I was joking!"

#


	34. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. The ending. I love you all SO MUCH. Thank you for all your feedback and kind words and kudos. Writing for you is a pleasure. 😘 Starting in January, I'll begin posting a new story. Hope to see you there. In the meantime, take care of yourselves and stay healthy. To a brighter new year! ❤️

**Two years later…**

Alex tapped the shiny gold bulb dangling from one of the countless pint-sized Christmas trees that turned the floor of _Harrods’_ household wares department into a small forest of tacky firs. Arms twined around him from behind. Miles’ giant grin pressed against his cheek.

“Look at them,” he gushed, “We should get some. We don’t have anything golden on our little tree!”

Laughter exploded from him, drawing curious and mildly disapproving glances from Penny and Pauline, who shopped for towels nearby. “Little is this. We have a bloody monstrosity in the living room. And there’s no space left for even one more bulb!”

“I could make space,” muttered Miles.

“Where?” challenged Alex.

“In the back. There’s a small branch. One bulb, Alex!” Lips brushed against his cheek, a touch which quickly became a lingering kiss. “One tiny little bulb, pretty please?” From lingering it prospered into ardent. “One teensy, tiny golden bulb. And I swear I won’t buy _anything_ else. Not even candy canes.”

“’cause the two dozen candy canes that already hang in it and make it tilt to the left, grossly endangering my tv by the way, aren’t enough?”

“It is tilting, right?” Miles gave it a thought. “Know what would help? If we stabilized it.”

“With a rope?” As ridiculous as the suggestion sounded, Alex had to concede it might just be necessary.

“I was thinking of counterbalancing.”

“Weights?”

Miles smirked. “There’s novelty ornaments in the Christmas section and—”

“When did you visit the Christmas section?” He twirled around inside his arms; eyebrows arched high. They’d arrived together, they’d stopped for a quick snack at the ice cream bar, then Miles had gone for the restrooms and— “You snuck there earlier, didn’t you?”

Miles stuck out his tongue. “Just for a minute, though!”

“And you already bought some, admit it.”

Eyes lowered. “Just a few.”

Alex chuckled and dropped his forehead against Miles’ chest. “One of these days I’ll come home from work and find out that you turned our place into a Santa’s village!”

Miles stiffened. Eyes shot open wide.

Alex shook his head. “Don’t you dare!”

A kiss. “Promise. Swear I won’t do it alone.” Another kiss. “I’ll have you do it with me. Next year!”

“No,” giggled Alex, head still shaking. “Never.”

Miles pulled him closer. “You will.” Another kiss. “You love Christmas as much as I do.”

“In measure,” protested Alex, biting his lip as his husband nuzzled his path down his jaw.

“We have to go big next year! It’ll be a very special Christmas. The first one when with—”

“Shhh,” hushed Alex. “We said we would wait ‘til Christmas eve.”

“I can’t wait anymore!”

“You’re bloody impatient, you know that?” This morning he’d found him shaking all the gifts Alex had spent hours wrapping.

“Boys,” called Pauline, clutching two big towels, “what’s with the whispering? You said you’d help us find some last-minute gifts. What would Aunt Eileen prefer, Miles? Royal blue or lagoon blue?”

“A bottle of gin?”

Alex snickered.

Pauline huffed. “She’s not a drinker, I told you.”

“Neither am I,” said Miles. He let go of Alex and crossed his arms. “But given the choice, I’d take gin over towels, too.”

“I think the lagoon blue looks quite right,” arbitrated Alex and reached for one of the towels. “Looks very nice.”

Miles snorted.

Penny sighed. “Son, that’s royal blue.”

“Blue,” mumbled Alex. “Both are.” Teeth sank into his earlobe and he yelped, then relaxed into the arms that snaked around him from behind. “Bad Miles!” he admonished with feigned outrage as his eyes crinkled with delight.

“No snogging at _Harrods_ ,” warned Pauline.

Miles scoffed and being the stubborn man that he was, he promptly grabbed Alex's cheek, gently turned his face, and snogged him most decidedly.

Alex laughed into the kiss.

Miles let up with a loud wet smacker.

Penny and Pauline rolled their eyes. “Christmas makes him silly,” his mom told Alex’s mom.

Penny gave her arm a pat. “Don’t I know? Alex is exactly the same.”

“Hey!” His protest was swift. “I’m not silly on Christmas.”

“No, dear. You’re silly all year long.”

 _Oh, here’s some silly for you,_ he thought and took Miles’ lips for a wild ride.

One Miles thoroughly enjoyed. The smile on his face was a mile wide. “Mmmhhh…do that again.”

“Not right now,” Pauline interfered. “Gifts, alright? This is important.” She settled on the royal blue towel and gave Penny a nod. “Need one more. For Uncle Bertram. He’s a bit of a…”

“Lunatic,” proposed Miles.

“ _Character_ ,” corrected his mother placably. “He could need a towel, too, I’m sure. Oh, I’ll just take the lagoon blue one for him, then.” She took a moment, then smiled. “That’s it then. I’m done. You, Penny?”

“All done, too.”

“Good.”

Alex tugged on Miles’ hand, then leaned in to whisper, “really want to tell ‘em now?”

Miles’ wide smile became as bright as sunlight. “Can we?”

“Go for it, baby.”

“Boys,” spoke Penny, “we’re done. Shall we head to the counter or—”

“Actually…” Alex tugged Miles’ arm securely around his middle. “We might need one more thing. Or a few more,” he figured, grinning up at his husband. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“There’s scarcely anything inside the room, yet.”

“What room,” wondered Pauline, squinting.

“The big one,” said Alex. “Next to our bedroom. It’s practically empty.”

“But somebody’s moving in, soon.” Miles held on to him so hard Alex had to chuckle. “Someone in need of a bed.”

“A very small bed,” Alex added.

Miles kissed his temple. “Or a crib…”

Penny clasped Pauline’s arm. “Oh, is this true?”

Pauline frowned. “A crib?” Turned to Penny, and from there to her hand. “A crib? A…a crib?!” She faced her friend. “A crib!”

“A baby,” exclaimed Penny and hugged Pauline. “Oh, Pauline, we’re having a baby. We’re finally having a baby!”

Miles cleared his throat. “Uh…”

Alex shook his head, then watched as their mothers danced with towels in their hands and arms around another. “Don’t bother, Mi. They’re havin’ a baby.”

“They are,” he whispered and brought his chin back into the curve of Alex’s neck. “We are.” Lips returned to his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you,” replied Alex.

“We are having a baby, we are having a baby,” sing-songed Pauline.

“A tiny, beautiful baby!” gushed Penny. And stopped altogether. “They’re gonna need so much!”

“Linens, and baby towels, and a little pillow, and blankets!”

“Toys and bottles and…they need _everything_!”

Nearby, a sales-assistant passed by.

Penny’s arm shot out and grabbed a hold of his hand, ignored his wide-eyed startled expression, and hauled him in. “You, take note. We will need _a lot_ …”

“So much for a quick shopping trip, eh?” Alex blew out a breath. “This is gonna take a while.”

Miles seized his hand. “Well, while they are busy, we might do something else in the meantime…” Teeth dragged over his lower lip in that one way that always left Alex a bit breathless.

“Does it involve naughty things,” hoped Alex.

“Things that a strictly forbidden,” promised Miles.

Alex smoldered his way. “Ooh. What do you got in mind?”

Hands entwined as Miles rushed them towards the stairs. “Something wild and exciting and breathtaking…”

Oh, that would be something he’d really want right now. Alex hurried along. “A quickie in the men’s’ room? A hot make-out session in the elevator? A blow-job in a changing room?” He really liked that idea.

“Better,” teased Miles, speeded down the stairs, and spun both of them to the right.

Alex froze.

Miles beamed. “A long trip through the Christmas section!”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.” He pulled him along. “Bulbs, lights, twinkling stuff! There’s so much to see! All the reindeers and there’s a glow-in-the-dark Santa in the back. I only glimpsed it earlier and I have to take a closer look!”

“Miles… We have like fifteen rooms in our house. Fourteen are full of singing Santas and blinking lights!”

“One left to fill, then.” He winked. “At the other side of the floor, there’s a giant gingerbread house. It’s life-sized and roped off, but nobody’s standing guard. You shop with me, I’ll blow your mind at the end of it. Deal?” Eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

 _Oh, well,_ figured Alex, the prospect of it making his temperature rise, _what’s a few more twinkling lights, right?_ He linked their fingers and licked his lips. “Shop ahead, my love!”

“Whoohoo,” laughed Miles and went to work.


End file.
